


Elsanna One-Shot Collection

by rareID



Category: Frozen (2013)
Genre: Blood and Violence, F/F, Female Doctor (Doctor Who), Historical, Mild Language, NSFW, One-Shots, Tearjerker, mild violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-25
Updated: 2016-01-02
Packaged: 2018-01-21 16:22:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 74,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1556651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rareID/pseuds/rareID
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This will be a collection of one-shots <i><b>based solely on reader prompts</b></i>. Before suggesting anything, please be sure to <b>read the introduction page (Chapter 1)</b> to know how this whole system is going to operate.</p><p>Prompts no longer accepted.</p><p><b>Included:</b> Assassin Elsa and Target Anna Part 1, Queen Elsa and Plebeian Anna, Arms Dealer Elsa and Slave Anna Part 1, Time Lord Anna and Joan d'Arc Elsa, Arms Dealer and Slave Part 2, Mafia Leaders Elsa and Anna, Soldier Elsa and Queen Anna, Assassin Elsa and 'Target' Anna Part 2, God-Like Elsa and Dictator Anna along with Queen Elsa and Assassin Elsa (mild NSFW).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Introduction

Alright, so I’m just finishing up the _Knock Knock_ series and I know I want to continue writing Elsanna, but I didn’t want to make it a big story deal – so I’ve decided to work solely off reader prompts. Down below is how all this will work, what is included in each one-shot and what I will not do.

Addressing the two most important things – I will _only_ write **unrelated** Elsanna and I _will not_ write smut. I have no problem with implied sexual content and the beginning of sexual content, but I will not write a full out sex scene. If that’s what you’re expecting, well, don’t – I like writing stories, not pointless erotica.

If you are all good with that (or at least semi-okay with) then we’re going to have a blast. Why? Because this is what is included in each one-shot:

      -At least 13 pages (I have a habit of writing windfalls, so this is the _minimum_ for each ‘chapter’)

      -A brief pre-history (so I don’t have to waste time explaining shit when you just want to read the thing)

      -(Optional:) A brief summary of what occurs after the end

      -Elsanna

      - _Your ideas_

I will write Elsanna in any situation you wish (if it’s the most voted and I’m not extremely opposed to it because of disturbing content). If you want them as original superheroes (ex. Ice Maiden/Earth Force) or existing superheroes (ex. Ironman/Captain America) in that world, the real world or the Frozen world; or perhaps you want them in specific settings or jobs like cop, college, jail, criminal, gang, military, war-zone, assassin, cop/college, military/military prisoner, prison guard/inmate and so on, I will do it. If there are certain events in my _Knock Knock_ series that you wish happened differently I’ll also do that – because I honestly think that it’d be cool to have some alternate possibilities within the story.

Now, how this whole system type thing works. At the end of each chapter (or introduction, in this case) you will put what you want to see next in the comments. If an existing comment catches your eye, _reply_ to it with; “Yes! This one!” or whatever. The idea with the most replies—which I let compile for a couple of days—will be the one that I select. If there are multiple highly voted, I will choose one and, at the end of the next chapter, I will have a list of popular ideas from the last comment compilation which you’ll be free to vote on or continue with your own suggestions.

If there is an idea I select with a layout you are uninterested in reading that is perfectly fine – you don’t have to read it, but you _do_ need to comment at the bottom of that chapter if you want a say in what the next one-shot is going to be.

If you want more of my writing or simply want to see how I write / operate, check out my [_Knock Knock_ ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1410163/chapters/2959189)series (which is much less grim than the tags and summaries let on).

At any rate, this is the end of my spiel. Please give suggests and vote in the comment section below, and I’ll choose an idea in 3-4 days. After which, give me 3-7 days to write, edit and post the chapter.

Cheers!


	2. Assassin Elsa and Target Anna, Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Pre-story:** Elsa was offered a contract on Anna’s head, and she accepted and signed off on it. She spent a week gathering information and scoping Anna out from a distance (figuring out her habits, etc), after which she immediately started setting herself up for the kill. The first attempt—a sniper shot—failed because Hans walked in front of the bullet’s path, and then things became too hectic to attempt loosing another. The second attempt—bombing Anna’s CEO office—failed because Anna dashed out of the room at the last possible second, late for a board meeting. The third attempt—poison gas—failed because Kristoff stopped Anna from getting in her car after she opened the door by engaging in conversation—letting the car air out—and when she finally got in the car she rolled down the windows. Elsa is now on her fourth attempt.
> 
> Anna is the CEO of a manufacturing company that Weselton Incorporated has been trying to take over for several years. While Anna’s company is relatively small, her business savvy nature has allowed the company to create a small fortune that is rapidly growing with each year. However, her tendency to always see the good in people has blinded her to the darker side – the side where Weselton Incorp. hires an assassin, Elsa, to off her.
> 
> Rating changed to Mature. Added characters: Kristoff and Rapunzel. Added tags: Mild Language, Mild Violence and Tearjerker.
> 
> All object references are linked so you can see pictures of them.

Elsa scales the unlit side of Anna’s upper class apartment building to the second floor, where she gingerly looks over the wall that encases the outdoor pool area. She spots several surveillance cameras, but no guards. Nimbly, she swings over the wall and crouches behind some of the shrubbery before quickly assessing herself to make sure she didn’t lose anything on the way up.

She wears all black; cargo pants, soft-sole combats, long sleeve shirt, leather gloves, half face mask and hat. Strapped to her right thigh is a [Sphinx SDP series](http://www.recoilweb.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/06/KRISS-Sphinx-SDP-Compact.jpg) pistol with a silencer, fastened in a little attachment on the holster. Strapped to her left thigh are a series of pouches that hold everything from lock picks to signal scramblers. Attached to her belt is an [asp](http://www.edgeimport.com/images/7352184255906.jpg), on her right boot a hunting knife, and a [machete](http://www.harborfreight.com/media/catalog/product/cache/1/image/9df78eab33525d08d6e5fb8d27136e95/6/9/69910_zzz_500.jpg) on her lower back.

After surveying her equipment, Elsa pats down her pockets to assure all the card keys are still in place. Nodding softly, she opens one of the pouches on her left leg and pulls out a signal scrambler. She snarls at it as she adjusts the settings, arming it to effect the security cameras.

As good as Elsa is at infiltration, she absolutely loathes doing it. Mainly it’s because it’s a pain in the ass, but also because it confines her. That’s not to say she isn’t confined usually, because she typically is – but being in an enclosed space surrounded by potential enemies, well, it makes her claustrophobic.

In any other circumstance she wouldn’t have minded as much, because she often finds herself breaking into buildings to either plant something or set up a snipe shot, but she never infiltrates with the intention of doing a close-quarters kill. It’s not that she can’t do it, it’s just easier to be blissfully and completely detached if you never get that close. The only reason she’s decided to do it now is because her target has the most frustratingly good luck Elsa has ever encountered. Not once, not twice, but _three times_ that stupid girl has evaded her death sentence, and Elsa will have no more of it.

Activating the scrambler, Elsa shoves it back in its pouch and bolts to the door to enter the building. Pulling a key card out of her pocket, she quickly swipes it and pushes open the door.

*

“Stop worrying so much, Kristoff.” Anna says into her bluetooth as she fishes her key card out of her purse.

“ _Anna, authorities recovered the remains of_ explosive devices _in your office. Why the hell would I_ not _worry?_ ” Kristoff asks, his apprehensive voice filtering into her ear. Anna frowns as she swipes her card and pushes into her apartment.

“I’m still alive, aren’t I?” She asks, kicking off her low-heel shoes to the corner of the entry way.

“ _Yeah? How long do you think that’s going to last?_ ”

Anna sighs. “Kristoff—”

“ _Don’t you ‘Kristoff’ me,_ ”—the man bites back—“ _your office is nothing but a hole in the side of the building and, not only that – Hans is_ dead _because he happened to stand at the same moment someone tried to_ shoot you.”

Anna frowns as she takes her phone out of her purse before throwing the bag on a nearby table.

“There’s no proof to indicate that.” She says, her throat tight as she remembers the spray of splintering glass five days ago and Hans crumbling like a sack of potatoes in front of her eyes seven days ago. “Authorities say it looks like an attack on the company, not—”

“ _Anna, you_ are _the company_.” Kristoff says, his tone gentler than before. “ _Please, all I ask is that you go to the police for help or hire some bodyguards until we’re certain that this whole thing has blown over_.” Anna sighs softly through her nose as she enters her bedroom and sets her phone on the nightstand.

“Maybe.” She breathes. “I think about it, at any rate.” She adds, before Kristoff can mount a rebuttal. There’s silence on the line for a moment before she hears Kristoff heave a sigh.

“ _Alright_.” He relents. “ _Just . . . just keep safe, okay?_ ” Anna twitches a small smile.

“I will. Thanks.” She ends the call and pulls the bluetooth out of her ear, gently setting it by her phone as she lets out a shaky breath.

Unbeknownst to Kristoff, Anna has already been to the police station to ask for help. She explained that she’s been having trouble focusing ever since the incident with Hans, which is why she forgot about the board meeting the day her office blew up, where she’d barely shut the door and taken a step before she found herself laying on the floor, her ears ringing and the taste of iron stinging her tongue. She tried to explain that she would have been taken out with it if she hadn’t been so scatterbrained, but they said something about there only being one direct attempt on her life, therefore there wasn’t enough evidence to confirm that she’s in any further danger.

She was admitted to the hospital and kept there for the night under observation with a minor concussion, sprained muscles and open wounds after someone _blew up her office_ and those assholes had the nerve to say ‘there isn’t enough evidence’?

Anna had nearly punched the man in the throat.

She hadn’t, though—thankfully—but now she finds herself flinching at loud noises and warily avoiding eerie or ominous looking places. Kristoff noticed, naturally, but Anna had been able to curb most of his worry, but it’s hard to do when she fears someone is out for her head just as much as he does. That knowledge is too much for her to bare, however, so she makes the point of being optimistic while Kristoff takes the burden of coaxing her back to reality every now and again. It makes things easier.

Sighing, Anna unbuttons her blouse and skirt and chucks them into her hamper. She unhooks her bra as she walks to her dresser and tosses it somewhere as she grabs her pajamas and pulls them on. She frees her hair of her twin braids and walks back to her bed. She checks her phone one last time for any missed calls or messages before turning off the light and slipping under the covers, dreading another night of fitful sleep.

*

By the time Elsa had avoided the few stragglers in the halls and grabbed an empty elevator, she’d already been in the building for over seven minutes.

 _Stupid people and their stupid nocturnal habits_. Elsa growls in her head.

Her inner voice rolls her eyes. _Riiight_ ,—the voice drawls— _because your schedule isn’t just as fucked up as theirs are_.

Elsa doesn’t grace the voice with a response.

Finally stepping out on the twenty-seventh level, Elsa ruffles through her pocket and pulls out another card, then opens one of her pouches and pulls out a decoder as she walks to her target’s apartment. She attaches the card into the machine and takes a breath, staring at the little red light as she swipes the contraption in the card reader beside her target’s room.

One second. Two seconds.

The card reader gives a tiny beep and Elsa immediately opens the door, entering as silently as she can. She takes the card out of the decoder and shoves them back into their places before pulling out her scrambler and shutting it off. Putting it back in its pouch and sealing it, she squints her eyes to adjust to the light as she pulls out her pistol and silencer and quietly screws it onto the barrel. Raising the gun, Elsa starts clearing the rooms. Her progress is slower than she would have liked, but she can barely see two meters in front of her.

 _Jesus, the woman doesn’t even leave her goddamn blinds open? They’re lightweight blinds and still allow light to defuse through them but_ still, _the nerve._

By this point Elsa isn’t sure if she’s berating her target or is simply thinking for the sake of making conversation with herself. Working alone for so long has had a bit of a strange effect on her.

Elsa makes it to the last room and gently pushes open the half closed door.

Her heart soars when she sees the sleeping lump underneath the covers.

 _A nice peaceful death_. Elsa thinks, leveling her pistol until it’s aimed at the girl’s head on the pillow. A satisfied smile slides over her lips.

 _Goodbye, Anna Arendelle_.

Anna’s phone lights up on the nightstand and starts bellowing _It’s Raining Men_. Anna groans and begins to stir.

No. No. _No_.

Elsa stands stock still as Anna rolls over and blindly pats the table for her phone. Gritting her teeth, Elsa re-aims and tightens her finger on the trigger—

“Hello?” Anna groans, her face still half buried in her pillows as she answers the call on speaker.

If it wasn’t for the gravity of the situation, Elsa would have started screaming and cursing Anna’s good luck to hell.

“ _Well, don’t you sound peachy_.” Says a woman’s voice from the phone’s speakers. It’s unnaturally loud for the quiet that once occupied the apartment. Anna groans irritably.

“What do you want, Rapunzel?”

“ _Wow, you are in a really bad mood, aren’t you?_ ” Anna lets out some sort of aggravated strangled sound. Getting the hint, the girl on the other end of the line says; “ _Uhh, right. Okay. Sorry I called late – I was going to earlier but I got held up. Yeah. Anyway, I was just giving you a ring to see if you were still coming to the wedding rehearsal tomorrow?_ ” Anna finally turns her head to the phone and, with the faint light it gives off, Elsa can see a frown tugging at the girl’s lips.

“Why wouldn’t I?” She asks. There’s silence for a moment.

“ _Anna . . ._ ”—Rapunzel starts, sounding terribly hesitant—“ _you’ve been through a lot in the past week and I wouldn’t blame you if you needed space. Hell, I’d—_ ”

“It’s fine, Rapunzel.” Anna sighs, bringing up a hand to massage the bridge of her nose. “It’s fine.” She repeats, her voice weary for a reason other than being woken from slumber. There’s another beat of silence.

“ _Okay_.” Rapunzel finally says. “ _Then you need to know that we’ve changed the timing. It starts at—_ ”

“Wait.” Anna groans, pushing herself up on an elbow. “Let me grab a pen.” She starts patting the bedside table, steadily getting closer to the lamp that resides there.

 _Don’t you dare turn on that lamp. Don’t you_ dare. _Don’t you fucking—_

Anna turns on the lamp.

Elsa’s eyes widen as Anna turns her head to open the drawer. There is nothing Elsa could do when Anna’s eyes suddenly flick up to the entryway and land directly on her. Then her gun.

The girl screams.

Moving quickly, Elsa sprints to the bed and jumps on it, pinning Anna down between her thighs and clamping her free hand over the girl’s mouth. Elsa plants the barrel of the gun hard into Anna’s temple and the girl freezes, her breath coming in short, shallow breaths.

“ _Anna?_ ” Rapunzel asks, panic flooding her voice. “ _Anna are you alright?_ ”

Elsa leans down until her mouth is beside Anna’s ear. “If you don’t get her off the line without making her believe that everything’s fine, then I’m not only going to kill you; I will kill her and her fiancée, then I’ll kill your father and everyone else you hold dear before toping it off by desecrating your mother’s grave. Do you understand?” The girl is trembling beneath her. Elsa leans back and sees the girl’s eyes are wide with fear and that tears have started flowing from them in a steady stream. Narrowing her eyes, Elsa pushes the barrel in harder, trying to get the girl to focus. “Do you understand?” She hisses.

“ _Anna, answer me!_ ” Rapunzel cries. She sounds close to hyperventilating. Gritting her teeth, Elsa removes her hand from Anna’s mouth and jerks her head to the phone, urging the girl to speak. Anna sobs.

“I’m sorry, Rapunzel.” Anna says, her voice cracking and fraying. “I turned on the light and I saw a shadow and, God, I’ve been so jumpy ever since Hans and the office, I—” Anna pauses, her eyes growing wide as she stares up at her assailant.

 _No._ No _— this is_ not _a good time to realize I was responsible for those things._

Sneering, Elsa glowers at the girl and moves the silencer against her temple to remind Anna that it’s still there. Anna swallows thickly.

“I’m a bit of a mess right now. Can you call me in the morning with the details or text them to me?” Anna asks, her voice quivering and sounding like it’s going to give out at any second.

“ _Do you want me to come over? I can be there in thirty if—_ ”

“No, but thank you.” Anna says, the words strangling themselves through a sob. “I j-just need to be alone right now.”

“ _Anna—_ ”

“ _Please_ , Rapunzel. Please.”

The silence drags on until, finally:

“ _Okay._ ” Rapunzel says, softly. “ _Just . . . just call me if you need anything, alright?_ ” As if realizing how close her demise is with the phone call ending, Anna starts sobbing uncontrollably.

Before this Rapunzel chick has a chance to say anything else, Elsa pushes the fingers of her free hand into the mask covering the lower half of her face, bites down and rips her hand free, quickly ending the call. She makes a mental note to wipe her fingerprint from the screen before she leaves.

“Right.” Elsa grunts, grabbing the glove from her mouth. “If you start screaming or try to run away, I will kill everyone who is alerted by it and then kill everyone who passes me on the way out of the building. If you cooperate and let this transition smoothly, I will leave as silently as I came and no one will become collateral damage. Okay?” Elsa asks, trying to soften her sharp tone in an attempt to put the girl at ease.

The thing with distance kills is that the targets never know what hit them until after they’re dead, and there’s a certain type of peace to that that Elsa has come to enjoy. She just hopes she can coax this girl into some sort of peace before it’s all over.

Only it’s not working.

Anna’s sobs start getting worse.

Growling in frustration, not wanting to be in this situation any longer than she has to, she grabs Anna’s top by the scruff and starts hauling her out of bed. The girl resists, of course, but the officer worker has nothing against the trained killer and Elsa easily tosses her to the floor, close to the wall.

Even though it probably shouldn’t be the first thing she notices, Elsa finds her eyes drawn to Anna’s ice-blue pajamas, happy snowmen dancing all over them.

A lump lodges into Elsa’s throat.

“Face the wall.” Elsa grunts, pulling her glove back on and leveling her pistol.

“Why are you doing this?” Anna asks, her sobs now wrecking through her whole body. “What did I do? Please tell me what I did wrong; I don’t understand!”

“Face the wall.” Elsa demands, though there’s a strangled quality to it that she wishes wasn’t there.

“At least let me tell my dad that I love him!” Anna wails, a desperate waver in her voice that nearly breaks Elsa’s heart in two. Elsa clenches her jaw tightly as she stares into Anna’s pleading, watering eyes.

“God damn it.” Elsa hisses, pinching the bridge of her nose with her free hand for half a second before grabbing Anna’s phone from the end table. She holds up the phone for Anna to see, never lowering the pistol. “You are allowed to text him _once_ , and I have to read over it before you press send. Make it count.” She lops the phone and Anna scrambles to catch it. The girl lets out a shaky breath and wipes at her eyes, attempting to clear her vision as she unlocks her phone and starts typing, her thumbs flying over the keypad. Elsa watches in mild fascination.

 _Fuck, how long is she making that thing?_ Elsa thinks, her eyebrows furrowing as she watches the blur of Anna’s thumbs working on the phone. This goes on for another couple seconds before the girl sniffles, wipes her eyes again and reads over the message. Once she’s finished, she flips it around and holds it out. Elsa half lowers her gun, takes a step forward and lowers herself to a knee. She eyes Anna warily before turning her attention to the phone.

Hey dad, I know it’s late but I haven’t really been sleeping very  
well these past few days. Every time I close my eyes all I see is  
Hans crumbling in front of me or my arms covered in blood  
and dust. It keeps reminding me that I don’t take nearly enough  
time to express how much I care about the people I hold dear,  
and I’m sorry for that. I just want you to know that I love you  
more than anything in this world, and that I’m sorry I didn’t take  
nearly enough time out of my schedule to see you. I know I talk  
to you on the phone all the time, but it doesn’t quite make up for  
the distance. I miss you. I’ll try my best to see you soon, okay?  
I ove you.

 _Well damn._ Elsa thinks, her throat clenching.

“You spelt love wrong.” Elsa strains. Anna’s eyebrows knit together and she turns the phone back around, her eyes scanning the message. Elsa shifts uncomfortably. “Second last word. You forgot the ‘l’.” Anna spies the mistake and quickly corrects it. She turns the phone back around. Elsa scans it quickly. She nods. “Go ahead.” She whispers, leaning back and sitting on her heel. She watches as Anna eyes the screen intently, then lets out a shaky breath and holds the piece of technology to her chest. She locks eyes with Elsa.

“Thank you.” She says, her bottom lip quivering and tears welling in her eyes again. Elsa shrugs uneasily.

“It was just a spelling error.” Elsa says, awkwardly trying to deflect the sentiment. Anna barks a watery laugh.

Oh God, that laugh.

“Well, it would look kinda silly if a CEO spelt such a simple word wrong.” Anna says, half-heartedly joking back.

_Jesus, my target just had to be the most adorable ball of goddamn sunshine, didn’t she?_

Anna stares at Elsa oddly. Elsa’s eyes widen. Did she say that out loud?

“What?” Anna asks.

Yes, yes she did.

“Nothing.” Elsa says, but winces when she realizes it comes out as more of a question then a statement. Anna gives the older girl a tentative smile.

“Do you want a cup of tea?” She asks. Elsa’s jaw drops, floored.

“W-what?” Elsa asks, her voice too much of a squeak for her own liking.

“Tea.” Anna reiterates, shrugging. When the girl notices Elsa’s face—a mix of shock and petrified, no doubt—Anna’s tentative smile widens a little more, taking on a more reassuring edge. “It’s mint. Helps calm down nerves.” Elsa struggles with herself, her jaw muscles bulging. Tears misting in her eyes, Elsa brings the gun back up, aiming for the point between Anna’s eyes. The girl’s smile falls instantly. It hurts Elsa more than she’s willing to admit.

“Please don’t look at me.” Elsa begs, her jaw clenching as she tries to keep her hands from shaking.

“I think I deserve to do whatever I want considering I’m about to die.” Anna drawls. She doesn’t cry. There’s no tears. There’s just a weary acceptance that this is how it’s going to end. This is exactly what Elsa wished would happen, but now it just makes the girl look so . . . lifeless.

Steeling herself, Elsa tightens her finger on the trigger. Anna squeezes her eyes shut on reflex, her breath coming in shallow hisses.

Taking one last steadying breath, Elsa pulls the trigger.

Anna flinches as she hears the muffled _pfft_.

All the girl’s muscles go rigid. Her breathing halts. Then, with a shuttering breath, she slumps.

Elsa watches the scene through a screen of salty water as she lets loose the first of many tears.

“I can’t do it.” Elsa chokes.

Anna finally looks up, her eyes flickering from the faded smoke wafting lazily off the gun to Elsa’s face. She turns around and sees the bullet lodged in the wall, a soft spray of blood around it. Anna reaches up and gently touches her ear. She draws it away and stares at the faint speckling of blood that comes with it.

“I can’t do it.” Elsa repeats, sobbing. She lowers her gun and flumps backward, sitting on her rear. “God _damn it_.” Elsa swears, covering her eyes with her free hand. “God damn it.” She says again, softer – defeated. She doesn’t even bother to stop Anna as the girl stands and leaves the room.

 _This is why you do distance kills, dumbass_. Her inner voice scolds her. _If you weren’t such a fucking moron, maybe you would have stuck to it._

She stays like this for what seems like forever until the faint smell of something sweet and minty reaches her nose. Rousing herself, Elsa wipes her eyes and pushes to her feet, letting her feet follow her nose. As she enters the kitchen, she sees the girl plopping a few squares of chocolate into two steaming mugs. She picks up the two objects and turns around, immediately jumping in surprise and almost spilling the contents of the mugs. Elsa smiles dimly, even though she’s sure the action can’t been seen from under her mask.

“Sorry, I should have announced myself.” Elsa says softly. She sees the girl’s eyes flick the gun.

Right. The gun.

“Sorry.” Elsa mutters again, unscrewing the silencer and holstering both that and the pistol.

“That’s fine.” Anna says timidly, a noticeable trimmer in her voice as she steps towards the table and places the steamy mugs on a pair of coasters.

“What is it?” Elsa asks, her voice still in the same gentle tone as she nods to the mugs. Anna forces a nervous smile. Elsa notes that the girl’s hands are shaking.

“Peppermint tea with mint chocolate.” Her smile falters. “Unless you don’t like chocolate? I’m sorry – I should have asked before I did it. I like it that way, see, so I just assumed— but I shouldn’t have assumed. Sorry. I’ll make you a new cup.” As Anna reaches to grab one of the mugs, Elsa raises a hand to stop her.

“It’s fine.” Elsa allows. She walks to the table and gingerly slides one of the mugs and its coaster to the other side of the table, where she pulls out a chair and sits down. Anna stares at Elsa for a long couple seconds.

“You’re . . . you’re not going to try to kill me again, are you?” She asks. Elsa lets out a bitter laugh.

“Trust me, if I could kill you then you’d already be dead.” She says, a sour note to her tone. The words don’t seem to reassure the girl very much, but it still gives her enough courage to continue.

“Did you kill Hans?” She asks, sorrow plaguing her features. Elsa shrugs.

“I was aiming for you.” Elsa states, not at all bothered by the death of the man she didn’t know, just like she remains unbothered by all the other bodies she’s left in her wake. Anna pales considerably.

“So . . . are you also responsible for bombing my office?” Anna asks. Elsa frowns. Doesn’t the girl already know this?

_She’s in shock, you stupid heartless bastard. Be a decent human being for once and—_

“I also put poison gas in your car, but you let it air out before you got in so it didn’t harm you.”

_—Or you could do that. Sure. Why not be more of a goddamn asshole and admit that you really would have killed all her friends and family if she hadn’t of listened to your instructions? Jesus. You need help._

“You poisoned my car?” Anna asks, her face—if possible—goes even paler than before. Elsa shrugs.

“I emotionally survive my hits by not getting attached to them. That means not getting close enough to hear them interact with people, or hear their voice, or anything that lets me see them as human beings. Poison gas just happens to be one of those things that lets me keep that distance, so yeah – I used it.” Elsa takes off one of her gloves and touches the side of her mug, testing the temperature. Anna frowns.

“Wait, if you like keeping your distance— oh wow.” Anna says, her face flushing. Elsa, blissfully unaware of Anna’s distraction as she settles her half face mask around her neck, shrugs uneasily.

“I normally get a target down on the first attempt, but since you eluded my attempts three times I figured I wasn’t going to have much luck with distance and tried this. Guess that one didn’t work out too well for me, huh?” Elsa asks, a dull humorous spark lighting in her eyes before she forcibly squashes it. She takes a tentative sip of the tea.

“You are beautiful.” Anna breathes. Elsa chokes on the tea. Anna’s eyes widen and she slaps her hands over her mouth. “Oh good God, did I say that out loud?” She asks. Elsa nods, still hacking and sputtering. Anna’s eyes widen further. “I am _so_ sorry – I didn’t mean to say that. That’s not to say that I didn’t mean it, because I did, I just didn’t mean to— shit, are you okay? You’ve been choking for a while.” Elsa would have laughed if she had the capability to breathe.

“Fine.” Elsa wheezes, weathering one more coughing fit before gently rubbing her throat, a frown tugging at her lips.

“Are you okay?” Anna asks anxiously. Elsa gives her a look.

“Kind of an odd thing to ask someone who’s been trying to kill you for a week, don’t you think?” Before Anna can answer, Elsa’s eyes flicker to the blood slowly trekking down the shell of Anna’s ear. Elsa hums thoughtfully and stands up, gesturing to the seat opposite her. “Sit down.” Elsa says, already making her way to the bathroom.

“Where’re you going?” Anna calls after her, a hint of unease slipping into her voice.

“Getting medical supplies.” Elsa calls back as she steps into the bathroom and opens the medicine cabinet. She scans it before taking a couple Q-Tips, hydrogen peroxide, a cotton ball and a Band-Aid. When she returns to the kitchen, she’s met with Anna sitting and nervously wringing her hands together on the table. Elsa sighs gently as she sets the supplies on the table. “I’m not going to hurt you.” She huffs a humourless laugh. “Well, any more than I already have, at any rate.” She unscrews the top to the hydrogen peroxide and pours a tiny amount into the cap.

“Why should I believe you?” Anna asks, warily eying Elsa as she works. Elsa sighs gently through her nose, picks up the cotton ball and starts lightly swiping Anna’s ear, trying to remove most of the blood.

“Like I told you before, if I had the will to kill you I already would have done it.” When Anna still looks skeptical, Elsa lets out a steadying breath. “In layman’s terms, you got to me. This is highly fortunate for you, of course, but it puts me in quite a tough jam.” Elsa sets down the cotton ball and picks up a Q-Tip, dips it in the peroxide and gently runs it over the cut on Anna ear. All things considered, the wound isn’t really that bad.

“What do you mean?” Anna asks, a frown tugging at her lips. “Can’t someone else just take up the job?” The girl doesn’t seem to realise what she’s saying until she says it, because she pauses for a second before turning unnaturally pale. “Oh God, there’s going to be more, aren’t there?” Elsa hums gently.

“Yes, but will they be hunting you, though? Not necessarily.” Elsa says, dipping a second Q-Tip in the disinfectant. “See, the assassin business isn’t as lawless as ‘civilized’ folk tend to believe. There is no bounty board that puts targets as far game to everyone. Well, there is – but that’s the bounty hunter business, not the assassin business. See, assassins work loosely through agents, though they can’t really be called as such – they’re more of a middle man who filters requests and checks to see if jobs are legit or not before sending the assassin to meet the contractor. While this meeting is done in person, it’s typically in poorly lit areas or something of the sort so no one can figure out the assassin’s identity.

“Anyway, the point is that once you sign the contract, that target is yours and only yours until, a; you kill the target, b; you annul the contract, c; the contractor annuls the contract, d; you die, or e; the contractor and his or her associates die. That’s not to say that another assassin couldn’t come in and kill someone else’s target anyway, but they’d have hell to pay from the other assassins and their allies and, trust me, you do _not_ want that. At any rate, what I’m saying is that while your contract is bound to me, no one else is allowed to harm you. The only question is if I want assassins coming after my head in an attempt to get your contract re-opened.” Elsa’s jaw clenches painfully as she throws the Q-Tip onto the table and grabs the Band-Aid, then proceeds to gently move Anna’s hair out of the way so she put it on the girl’s ear. “There. Good as new.” Elsa whispers, leaving the bloody items where they are as she walks around the table and sits in her chair.

For a long couple of seconds, Anna doesn’t say anything.

“So . . . what, exactly, are you trying to say?” Anna asks, her tone slow and measured. Elsa frowns, considering the question.

“I’m saying that while the concept of throwing your life on the line for someone else is terribly romantic and awe inspiring in your land of everyone-here-is-civilized, it’s not exactly ideal in my land of everyone-here-has-been-trained-to-kill.” Elsa says, avoiding directly answering the question. Anna’s face falls slightly.

“You’re going to annul the contract.” She says. It’s not a question, it’s a statement. Elsa’s shoulders tense and her eyebrows knit together uncomfortably.

“Not necessarily.” Elsa says, slowly. “With the bad luck I’ve been having with you, I can safely surf another week as long as I pop my head around to grab supplies and ask around for new tactics I could off you with. After that week, though, people will know something’s up. Hell, I’m kind of pushing it as it is, considering I’m known for being a one-hit wonder. I do promise to keep your contract for a week, nonetheless, but, after that, if you refuse to do something about this little problem of yours I will terminate the contract.” Anna’s eyebrows furrow in confusion.

“I don’t understand. What am I suppose to do about it?” She asks. Elsa eyes the girl warily, silently wondering if she has what it takes.

“You either have to personally order a hit on my contractors, or you’re going to have to convince one of your friends to do it for you.”

One second. Two seconds.

So much blood drains from Anna’s face that Elsa is half worried the girl is about to pass out.

“What?” Anna asks. Elsa clears her throat, and tries to make her next words as gentle as possible.

“The only two solutions that you’re left in the clear is if my contractors annul the deal—which is unlikely—or if they die. So you if allow them to live, you’re pretty much signing your own death warrant.” Elsa says.

“But, but I don’t even know who they are!” Anna says, her breath turning shallow. “Even if I did want to— to do as you ask—which I don’t—how am I—”

“I know who they are.” Elsa interrupts. “And I am more than willing to give you their names if you want to do what needs to be done. Otherwise, well, I suggest you take a week off work and enjoy as much time with your loved ones as you can.” Anna’s eyes well with tears and she clenches her jaw. Her face contorts as she fights some internal battle.

“If I can convince one of my friends to do it—or not, and it’s left up to me—how am I suppose to get in touch with one of these agents you speak of? I—” Anna lets her words fade away as a wide, reassuring smile spreads over Elsa’s lips.

“I can give you phone numbers, details, inside information, what to expect, how much money you’ll need, etc – basically I’ll tell you everything you need to know, so don’t worry about it.” Elsa says. Anna frowns.

“Won’t that get you in trouble?” She asks. Elsa barks a laugh.

“I’m not giving away their home addresses, for fuck’s sake.” Elsa says, mirth shining in her eyes. “Besides, as long as it keeps me safe and keeps your death off my conscious, I don’t really care all that much.” Off Anna’s look, Elsa says; “I also just know what I can say and what I can’t.” Anna shakes her head gently.

“No, it’s just . . . thank you. I don’t know why you’re doing this, but it’s more than I could have ever asked for and . . . thank you.” At a loss for words, the young CEO flashes Elsa the brightest smile she as ever seen, with just enough of a watery edge to stab the assassin right in the heart strings.

“Yeah.” Elsa breaths, a lump lodging in her throat. Suddenly the tea she has left mostly untouched becomes unbelievably appealing and she takes a sip of it. It’s lukewarm, but the smooth taste of mint chocolate and peppermint still blissfully overpower her senses.

 _How did I_ not _know if this concoction?_ Elsa thinks, staring into her cup with an acute sense of wonder.

“Do you like it?” Anna asks, dragging Elsa from her thoughts. She looks up to see the girl giving her a shy smile. Elsa smiles back.

“It’s lovely, thank you.” She says. Anna beams.

“I’m glad, because it’s honestly one of my favourite things to drink. Well, other than chocolate milk, I suppose, but this is a very close second.” Anna says, nodding sharply to punctuate her words. It’s so ridiculous that Elsa almost cracks a laugh. Instead, however, she just gives the girl a broad smile.

“I don’t blame you – chocolate milk is pretty fantastic.” She says, sincerely. Anna blinks and tilts her head, giving Elsa a curious look. When this continues for a couple of awkwardly long seconds, Elsa knits her eyebrows together, wondering if she said something wrong.

“You seem so . . . normal.” Anna breathes. Elsa’s smile falters. Anna panics. “I’m not saying that you’re not! Well, technically you kinda aren’t, considering your job is to kill people but— oh God, that came out wrong. What I’m trying to say is that I never expected that the person hunting me down would be so charming. Not that your attempts on my life where charming, because they definitely weren’t, but you . . .”—Anna falters, her nose scrunching as she tries to think of the right words—“you’re just so . . . likeable.” Elsa, for the second time that night, is completely floored.

“Some people would beg to differ.” Elsa chokes, pushing through her mental brain fart.

“‘Some people’ doesn’t include me.” Anna says, smiling as Elsa’s eyes flick away from hers. She examines the older girl’s face for what seems like an eternity until, finally, she says; “After we get this mess out of the way, would it be okay if we meet up every now and then? You know, like friends, or colleagues, or, you know, whatever we are.”

_No. That is a horrid idea and completely jeopardizes—_

“I wouldn’t be opposed to the idea.” Elsa says, twitching a small smile.

 _Do you even listen to me anymore? God, it’s like your common sense got trampled by this girl’s happy rays of sunshine and rainbows._ Elsa makes to retort to her inner voice, but is stopped cold by the sight of Anna beaming at her, a grin plastered on her lips.

 _Yup. Totally worth my common sense getting blown to smithereens._ Elsa thinks, smiling back at the girl and taking another sip of her chocolate peppermint tea.

Elsa knows she could never really get used to any part of the world that Anna lives, but she gets the feeling that she might just be able to find comfort in it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Va-va-voom.
> 
> Please give suggestions and vote in the comment section below for the next one-shot. I’ll choose an idea in 3-4 days, after which give me 3-7 days to write, edit and post the chapter.
> 
> Please note: I _only_ take suggestions from the most recent chapter to give the board a clean slate. So if you suggested an idea last time, it's no longer valid unless you suggest it again. A bit of a pain, yes, but fair.


	3. Queen Elsa and Plebeian Anna

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Pre-story:** Elsa, an only child, has been queen for just over a year. She’s finding, however, that her years locked away in the castle has left her oblivious to her people’s needs. With the population’s wariness of her because of the Great Freeze—in which case she barely pulled herself together enough free the kingdom of the icy clutch—Elsa decides to disguise herself so she can safely mingle with the population.
> 
> Anna, the rebellious blacksmith’s daughter, has been fighting to protect her friends and family for as long as she can remember. She was scolded for it many times, but with her muscles from working the forged, she found no reason not to put them to good use. Four years ago she was noticed by one of the more shady residents of Arendelle, and they offered to train her to fight professionally. Although she didn’t quite like the not-so-noble intentions behind the offer, she accepted to at least become a better defender to the people she cares about. She’s been professionally street fighting ever since.
> 
> Elsa and Anna have only met a sparse number of times before: once as a child when the king brought Elsa to the forge while Anna was working, then never again until this past year, where the two often see each other in passing while Anna makes weapon deliveries to the castle. Despite this, the two are still very memorable in each other’s mind, they just never felt like they had the permission to address each other.
> 
> Character tags added: Original Characters and Kai.

A light frown tugs on Elsa’s lips as she walks through the streets.

While it seemed like a good idea to go into the populous in men’s clothes and her hair tucked into a hat so no one would recognise her when she was in the castle, it wasn’t actually a good idea in practice. The main reason is because there are people. Lots of people.

Elsa clears her throat gently before any nervousness can settle on her vocal cords and continues squeezing her way through the crowd.

She has no idea how the hell she thought this would work.

Her planning was all good and dandy while she was in the castle – all she had to do was disguise herself and talk to the population. Simple. Then she realized, with her history, that it wouldn’t be simple to become social in a day and decided that she should probably just stick to observing. For some odd reason, though, she never calculated using all her energy not to hyperventilate instead. It’s weird that she didn’t, considering her track record, but she didn’t nonetheless and now she’s left merely trying not to look like a fucking crazy as she tries to find somewhere that doesn’t have people.

It takes a while, but she eventually exits onto a main road. It’s still has an overwhelming amount of people—all entering and exiting the main square—but there’s thankfully less than what she had just endured. Visibly trembling, Elsa leans against the side of the nearest building and tries to steady her ragged breathing.

“You didn’t think about just sending for people to come to the castle, did you? Nooo, because that would be too simple. Why would you want to be in the environment that you’re comfortable with when you could do something crazy and terrifying and outright ludicrous? I need to meet people in their own environment, I said; I need to see them as they normally interact, I said. God, why am I so stupid as to listen to myself?” Elsa hisses and pinches the bridge of her nose.

She really should have tried getting used to being around people, first.

 

 

*

Anna, a satchel slung over her shoulder, exits her house. She laughs when her father gives her a disgruntled stare.

“Geez, dad – you should really be used to this by now.” Anna teases, a grin spreading over her lips. Her father grumbles something and turns back to the anvil, continuing to hammer the red-hot sword he’s currently working on. Anna rolls her eyes. “I made sure that this is just a training week so that I’ll be able to fill my end of the order like I always do, so don’t worry.” Her father sighs and dunks the sword into the barrel of water. It hisses angrily.

“I don’t care about the order – I want you to be safe.” He says, pulling the sword back out and examining it. Nodding in approval, he sets the blade down and turns to Anna, a frown tugging at the corners of his lips. “You can’t stay at the top forever.” He says. Anna’s humour is replaced with something more thoughtful, and she hums – gently agreeing.

“I can’t drop out while at the top without reason, either; it’d bring that trouble to our doorstep, and I’d very much like to avoid that.” Anna says. She stays thoughtful for a moment longer before sending her father an apologetic smile and shrugging meekly. “At least I get to beat up snobby assholes?” Her father snorts, mirth exploding in his eyes as he shoves the blade back into the forge.

“Get out ’a here, kid.” Her father says, unvoiced laughter sparkling in his tone. Anna’s smile broadens and she kisses him on the cheek.

“Later, dad.” She says, turning heel and skipping out into the milling crowd of people.

Most of the population knows her—either as a blacksmith, a fighter, or both—so most of the folk she squeezes by greet her warmly or give her an encouraging pat on the shoulder. Having the inviting personality that she does—if not a bit eccentric and a scatterbrained—she responds to all with a wide grin, a few words or a friendly clap on the back. Even with this, Anna never slows her progress and easily makes it to the main road in record time. She pauses to pull a pair of rolled hand wraps out of her bag and starts wrapping one around her left hand as she continues walking.

When her eye lands on a man leaning against a wall pinching his nose, a slight trimmer to his hand, Anna slows and raises an eyebrow.

The man, with most of his platinum hair tucked into his hat, wears an off-white tunic, white gloves, royal blue breeches and well made black leather boots that go halfway up his calves.

 _His family is of some sort of prestige, but not as high as a noble. Maybe the son of a duke._ Anna thinks, noting the man’s posture and etiquette even as he tries to calm himself down from . . . something. Anna frowns at that thought. She finishes tying the wrap on her hand and walks up to him.

“Hey there.”

The man starts and snaps as straight as a board, a little ‘eep’ escaping his lips. Anna’s eyes widen in alarm and she raises her hands in a pacifying motion, her right still holding the other hand wrap.

“Whoa, I didn’t mean to scare you.” Anna says, trying to seem as inviting as she can. The man still stares at her with wide eyes and his shoulders up to his ears. Anna suppresses the urge to roll her eyes and gestures to herself. “I’m Anna; I came over to see if you were okay.” In a split second—whether it was her words or her tone—the man visibly relaxes and a tired smile spreads over his lips.

“Your the black smith’s daughter.” He says, a note of affection in his more feminine edged voice. He bows politely at the shoulders. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” Anna smiles.

“As flattered as I am, a moment ago you looked like you were expecting someone to suddenly jump up and start bashing your head in with a rock.” Anna says, starting to wrap up her other hand. “So do you need help, or . . .?” She asks, raising an eyebrow in question. The man opens his mouth and, for a moment, Anna believes he’s going to completely shrug off her concern, when he pauses. He stares at Anna for a couple seconds, an unreadable expression masking his face.

“I’m not particularly fond of crowds.” He admits, a frown tugging at his lips as he eyes the crowd uneasily. Anna tilts her head curiously.

“Kind of a strange thing to be afraid of, isn’t it?” She asks. The man’s sharp gaze snaps back to Anna.

“I’m not _fond_ of crowds.” The man bites, each word measured and almost painfully over pronounced. Still, it succeeds in halting Anna’s actions; a shiver of warning tickling down her spine. Anna discretely swallows and ties off her hand wrap, then stretches and flexes her hand to make sure it’s not too tight.

“Well, uh, you still might be shit out of luck either way.” Anna says, laughing weakly. She glances to the crowd. “Because whether you like it or not that square is going to remain that full until the sun starts going down, so unless you don’t have to go through it to get home . . .” Anna shrugs, not bothering to finish her thought. The man visibly pales. Clearing his throat uneasily, he offers Anna a weak smile.

“Guess I’m going to have fun, then.” He strains, his eye twitching in what Anna assumes is a suppressed wince. He turns to Anna, reserved hope flickering in his eyes. “You wouldn’t happen to want to help me, would you?” He asks. Anna smile apologetically and jerks her thumb in the opposite direction.

“I would if I could, but I have training right now and I can’t drop it. Sorry.” She says. A frown tugs at the man’s lips.

“Training? For what? The smithy’s that way.”

Oh. So he doesn’t know.

Probably best if it stays that way.

Anna smiles and waves the man off. “Long story. I’d love to get into it, but if I don’t leave right now I’m going to be late.” Anna turns and starts jogging down the road. Over her shoulder she calls; “It was nice meeting you!”

 

 

*

Elsa stares, dumbfounded, as the girl who’s been the object of her curiosity for almost a year runs away from her. She absently raises her hand in a tiny wave, even though she knows Anna’s back can’t see it.

“Nice meeting you, too.” Elsa whispers.

 _So that’s what she’s like, huh?_ Elsa thinks, a small smile twitching onto her lips. She contemplates it for all of two seconds until a loud noise from the square startles her back to reality. She glances to the milling crowd and lets out a shaky, steadying breath.

“One more time. Just one more time.” She murmurs, turning to the square. Pulling herself to her full height, she walks forward.

By some stroke of luck, she’s able to get through the crowd and starts walking back towards the bridge walk-way leading to the castle without breaking down. She just gets close to it when two men—who reeked of fish and ale—squashes her between them. She’s able to push through it, but only because she needles one of their feet with ice so they stumble and give her a chance to escape, which she readily takes.

All and all, it wasn’t a bad first trip.

“Kai!” Elsa calls as she finally walks through the doors to the castle, opened by the royal guards. She pulls off her hat and heads towards the stairs. She should probably look in a mirror to see if her braid is still intact and her hair presentable, but right now she’s still a little too shaken to give a shit.

Kai appears as Elsa reaches the top of the stairs. He bows at the shoulders.

“You called, your majesty?”

Elsa nods and waves for him to follow her as she heads down the hall. “Is Kristoff going to town today, do you know?” Kai nods.

“Yes, your majesty – he’s already preparing to leave.” He says. Elsa freezes.

“Right now?”

Kai frowns. “Yes, your majesty.” Elsa turns heel and starts sprinting back towards the stairs.

“If anyone asks, I’m still not available for the rest of the day!” Elsa calls over her shoulder. She uses her ice to slide down the stairs, nearly barreling into Gerta at the bottom. “Sorry!” Elsa puffs, already dashing down another hallway.

A couple minutes later, Elsa bursts through the stable door—startling a few horses and a groom—and looks around frantically. Her eyes settle on Kristoff’s back just as he’s about to kick his horse into motion.

“Kristoff, wait!” Elsa shouts, jogging towards him. She stops a groom along the way, ordering him to saddle her horse, before continuing her way to the young man. For his part, Kristoff just half turns his horse and raises an eyebrow at the disheveled queen. A smirk tugs at his lips as he eyes her attire.

“Wow, you are one sexy man.”

“It’s a new fad.” Elsa says, stopping beside the man’s horse. Kristoff’s eyes light up.

“Really?” He breathes, excitement dancing over her face. Elsa gives him a odd look.

“Seriously, Kristoff? No – it’s not a fad.” At his heartbroken expression, Elsa rolls her eyes. “Whatever. Look, I have the rest of the day off and I’m not spending it here. So I want to go with you, have some fun and get some people advice.” Kristoff’s eyebrows lift.

“You want people advice from a man who works with horses and reindeer for a living?” His blurts, voice just a tad too loud.

“Shh!” Elsa hisses, just as the stable boy comes over with her horse. “Thank you.” She says, taking the reins and turning back to the head groom. “What do you say?” Kristoff stares at her for a long couple seconds before a slow smile spreads across his lips.

“I say you put that hat back on, because you won’t want people knowing who you are.”

His tone makes Elsa’s jaw drop. Kristoff laughs. Elsa narrows her eyes.

Elsa doesn’t know what the head groom is planning, but she knows it’s something she’s probably not going to like.

 

 

*

Several hours later.

Anna shoves the rolled hand wraps into her satchel, wincing as her knuckles catch on the bag. She rubs her hand, a small frown tugging at her lips as she continues her trek back to the smithy.

The training intensity has been upped since she isn’t taking any bouts this week. She wouldn’t have minded so much if her trainers had worked more on conditioning then they did on moves, counters and dummy work, but as it stands, they decided to make her sprint for her money. Again, she wouldn’t have minded if _they didn’t know she has a smithy order to fill_. It’s too late to do anything about it now, though, so she has to deal with having to take it easy and forge at a more leisurely pace than she normally does.

That thought makes her wince.

_The order is already ridiculous, but now I’m going to be up halfway through the night trying to make up for the work I should have finished today._

Sighing, Anna nimbly scoots through the crowd—doing her best to go unnoticed—and steps into the smithy. Her dad glances up from his anvil. She smiles at him as she throws her satchel on a nearby bench.

“Hello again.” Anna says, humour lacing her tone as she walks to over to her forging outfit. Her hand is halfway to the thick leather attire when her father’s voice stops her.

“I need you to bring a delivery of swords over to the inn.” He grunts, pounding his hammer on an axe she can tell he’s only recently started working on. Anna frowns, her hand falling to her side.

“I’m already going to have to stay up through the night working on my portion of the order; I don’t have the time to make a run.” She says, her eyebrows furrowing. “Why can’t you do it?” She asks, gesturing to the forge. “It looks like you’re ahead of schedule, so I don’t see why you can’t—”

“I’m picking up some of your work.” Her father says, not even turning to her as he dunks the axe into the barrel of water, the hot metal hissing as a cloud of steam bellows up around his arm.

“What?” Anna asks, alarmed. “No.” She states, her mouth setting into a hard line. “I said I would complete my end of the order and I meant it. I—” Her father turns to her with a loving smile, but Anna can still see the hint of grief that lingers in it.

“I know, Anna – I know. I just don’t want you over working yourself; it’s not good for you.” He says. Anna’s frown deepens.

“It’s not good for you, either.” She retorts. Her father smile becomes weary.

“This is only physical demand my life has; one I have become very used to. You, on the other hand, have two very different physical priorities – both as demanding as the other and forcing you to try to do the full amount of work for both with half the amount of time. So I am more than willing to help you if it means preventing you from working to death.” He says. Tears mist in Anna’s eyes and, without any regard to the soot on her father’s forging gear, wraps him in a crushing hug.

“I love you, dad.” She murmurs into his shoulder. Her father chuckles and wraps his arms around her gently.

“I love you too, sweetheart.” He says. Patting the girl’s back, his pulls away with a broad, proud smile and gestures to three sheathed swords in the corner. “You should probably get moving.”

It isn’t long before Anna has the two smaller swords strapped to her waist, the two handed broadsword strapped to back and is trekking purposely towards the inn. She waves and grins to all who greet her, but otherwise tries not to encourage any prolonged interaction that will make her rushed timings any worse than they already are.

She reaches the inn in no time and easily finds the soldiers the delivery is meant for. She hands over the weapons and stays there as the soldiers unsheathe them and examine the blades. When they accept the quality they hand over the other half of the coin they still owe. Anna accepts it with a smile and leaves, heading back the way she came.

It really shouldn’t have come as too much of a surprise, however, when she witnesses some rough-housing in a nearby alleyway.

 _Why does it always happen to be when I’m busy that I stumble upon this shit?_ Anna thinks, sighing gently. Of course she knows that she can’t let this injustice go unpunished—her morals were too developed for that—but that doesn’t mean she can’t be a little upset by the inconvenience. Shaking her head gently, Anna takes a confident step into the alley.

“It’s a fine day today, isn’t it?” Anna asks, a broad smile plastered on her lips. The two assailants pause and turn to her. One obviously recognises her—if the instant fear is anything to go by—while the other simply takes her in with a cool, calculating eye.

“Hello.” The man—obviously the leader of the two—says, looking completely unfazed by the situation. “How are you?” He asks. Anna raises an eyebrow.

“Odd thing to ask.” Anna says, slowly. The man shrugs.

“Not particularly.” He glances at the man keeled over and spitting up blood beside him and amends; “Well, perhaps a little strange.” A frown tugs at the corners of Anna’s lips.

“What’s going on here, exactly?” Anna asks. She typically doesn’t waste time with questions, but she typically doesn’t deal with people who don’t instantly want to rip her throat out.

 _I just had to get the cool collected guy that I can chat out of violence the one day I have an abnormal amount of work to do._ Anna thinks, groaning internally. An odd smile twitches onto the man’s lips.

“Exactly what it looks like, I presume.” He says, humour lilting his words. It’s more unnerving than Anna likes to admit.

“Okay, well I don’t like it.” Anna says, speaking frankly. “So we can either handle this little problem with a good ‘ol fashion fist fight, or you can walk away so I can get this man some medical attention.” The leader’s smile widens. It makes the hairs on the back of Anna’s neck stand on end.

“How about a mix of both?” He proposes. He gestures to the beaten man. “How about I leave and let you take this man and reconvene at the arena in twenty minutes?” Anna’s eyes narrow.

“I’m not doing any official or unofficial bouts until next week, so how about you organize a bout with my manager? You can even make sure it’s on a day that I have multiple fights so you can go last and have more of a chance of winning.” Anna says, a slight taunting edge to her words.

To be honest, Anna has absolutely no issue with going to the ring now and pulverizing this man, but she does have an issue with breaking her word with her father. Thus, her purpose is to either threaten this man into submission or goading him into a fight to settle this now. She doesn’t really care either way just as long as she gets this issue out of the way and can go back to the smithy. The man hums.

“Too bad – I hear the arena is pretty abandoned right now.” He says. A shiver runs down Anna’s spine.

“That makes it more dangerous.” She snaps, covering her unease.

“Anna!” A familiar, slurred voice calls from behind her. Frowning, she glances back just long enough to see who addressed her before turning back to the leader.

“This isn’t a good time, Kristoff.” Anna says. He ignores her and slings an arm over her shoulders. She scowls.

“It’s always a good time!” Kristoff snickers, his head lolling forwards and resting on Anna’s shoulder. Anna’s nose curls.

“Have you been drinking?” She asks. Kristoff chortles, but otherwise gives her no response. Anna growls with frustration. Of course she has to deal with this today, too.

“Sorry.” Another voice says, before staggering up to Anna’s other side and into her vision. “He drank a lot and isn’t exactly thinking properly.” The man giggles in a manner very unbefitting of a man and leans against the wall of the alleyway. “Then again, I’m not one to speak.” He says, grinning from ear to ear.

“You?” Anna asks, surprised. “What? Why?”

Why would an awkward upper-class be drinking with a man who works and sleeps in a stable—the royal stables, admittedly, but a stable nonetheless—and literally smells like manure? The man grins and leans forward.

“It makes me less awkward with people.” The man stage whispers, before bursting into uncontrollable laughter. Anna’s eyebrows set into an unamused line, silently disagreeing with the statement.

“That’s great. Can you please take Kristoff and go?” She grinds. The drunken upper-class man blinks.

“Why?” He asks, honestly confused.

 _Did you really drink that much or are you seriously this stupid?_ Anna thinks, clenching her teeth.

“Please look further into this alleyway and tell me what you see.” She grits.

The man blinks again and does what she asks.

“Oh!” He exclaims, pushing from the wall. “That man is injured.” He declares, and starts stumbling towards him. Anna’s eyes almost bulge out of her head.

“What? No! Come back here! Damn it, Kristoff, get off of me!”

With Kristoff clutching to Anna and leaning on her like dead weight, she is helpless to do anything but watch as the refined man kneels beside the one spitting out blood. With some sense of relief, Anna notes that the assailants are just as surprised as her at the oblivious idiot’s actions and are too shocked to react.

 _Small miracles_. Anna thinks, letting out a slow, calming breath – not daring to move in fear it will break the assailants from their stupor; because she really doesn’t want to have to drop Kristoff in order to save this moron.

“Are you okay?” The upper-class man asks, bracing a hand against the cobblestone to keep from swaying. The injured man frowns and gives the other a strange look.

“Who are you?” He asks.

Still kneeling, the upper-class man straightens and slams his hand so hard against his chest that Anna physically winces at the sound.

“I, my good sir, am the queen!”

One second. Two seconds.

Anna slaps her free hand over her face and the two assailants start laughing uncontrollably. For his part, the ‘queen’ manages to look genuinely insulted by the reaction.

“How dare you laugh at your ruler!” He barks, pushing to his feet . . . only to fall back to the ground. The roaring laughter only grows louder. Anna groans and lowers her hand.

“Can we settle this in the arena next week so I can deal with these two?” She asks. The only answer she gets are the two men hollering hysterically and keeling, holding themselves with their hands on their knees.

Surprisingly, the upper-class man still looks unbelievably offended.

Before this can get any more out of hand, Anna leans Kristoff against the wall and walks up to the two men on the cobblestone. She glances to the injured one.

“Can you walk?” She asks. He nods.

_Good, because I’m going to have my hands full dragging these two drunken morons halfway across town._

It takes a painful amount of time, but thankfully the assailants are still otherwise too occupied with their aching ribs to halt the pathetic retreat. Anna is able to pawn the injured man off on another citizen, and she continues on – awkwardly dragging the other two stumbling drunkards back to her house.

In some measure of mercy, her father notices her approach and drops everything to come help.

“What happened?” He asks, effortlessly lifting up Kristoff and walking back towards the house. Anna sighs, following her dad’s example and lifting the slim man remaining in her care up into her arms. He giggles gently and rests his head on Anna’s shoulder. Anna suppresses the urge to roll her eyes.

“I was dealing with some trouble in an alleyway when Kristoff and this idiot stumbled up to me. I was able to remove us from the situation without any trouble, but only because this moron was so drunk he started declaring that he was the queen.” Anna says, grunting as she pushes into the house after her father. She follows her father into the living room and gently lays the tiny thing in her arms onto the couch. Her father barks a laugh as he lays Kristoff down on the fur rug in front of the unlit fireplace.

“Seriously?” He asks, mirth swimming in his eyes as he goes into another room to grab some blankets. Anna grunts in affirmation as she unties the young man’s boots and pulls them off.

“He got really insulted when no one believed him, too.” Anna says, moving to Kristoff to remove his boots as her father re-enters the room with two blankets, already preparing to lay one on the passed out man on the couch.

“I wonder if he has the same long flowing locks as her majesty?” He teases, barely suppressing laughter. Anna barks a laugh as she puts Kristoff’s boot aside and turns to her father, arm already outreaching for the other blanket to put on top of the stable boy. Her action halts, however, when she notices her still, shocked father as he stares down at the upper-class lad’s face, the boy’s hat in his hand. Anna frowns and pushes to her feet. She takes the few steps that close the distance between them and glances down, trying to understand her father’s hesitation.

Anna’s breath catches in her throat.

“What a second.” Anna chokes, trying to push past her shock as she stares at the platinum braid and wind-blown bangs, the queen’s signature hair style. “Does this . . . does that mean— is this _actually_ the queen?” Anna asks, her mouth practically flapping like a fish as she stares at the woman’s sleeping face.

_That would certainly explain all the not-so-manly behaviour quirks._

“It would seem that way, yes.” He says, a frown etching its way onto his lips. He glances over to Anna. “Should we inform the castle? It looks like she’s going to be out for a while.” Anna lightly chews on her bottom lip.

“We should, but I want to make sure we have an idea of her condition beforehand, so we know what kind of urgency to deliver.” Anna says, carefully eying the young royal’s face. “She _looks_ okay, but—” The queen suddenly jerks awake and rolls to the side, hovering over the edge of the couch as her back arches and she retches. Anna and her father jump back. Elsa whimpers quietly and gently clutches the side of her head as she settles uneasily at the edge of the cushions, keeping her head slightly dangling off the side.

Thankfully her father has more common sense than to just gape in horror, and mutters something about a bucket and a towel before exiting the room. Anna, however, continues to stare with her jaw unhinged.

 _The queen just puked on my floor._ Queen Elsa _just_ puked _on my floor!_ Anna thinks, her nose curling as the smell finally reaches her. It’s not bad, per se, but it absolutely reeks of alcohol. She turns her head away, and her eyes fall on Kristoff. A frown tugs at the edge of her lips. _How did you manage to convince Elsa to do something so utterly moronic?_ She wonders, almost wanting to wake the man so she can scream at him about how irresponsible he is.

The queen whimpers again, followed by the distinct sound of vomiting. Only this time, instead of hearing it hit the floor, she hears it hit something with more of a hollow sound. Anna turns, and grins at the sight of her father frantically leaning over the puke on the floor, bucket in hand, just barely saving the floor from more of the alcoholic stomach mess. Anna barks a laugh—despite the smell—and grabs the towel from her father’s shoulder and lays it on the mess on the floor.

“So, should we feel honoured that our floor has been blessed, or something?” Anna asks. Her father gives her an unamused stare. Anna laughs. Elsa groans at the noise and tries to raise her head, but her already unstable senses make her lurch and she barely keeps herself from puking again. Moaning gently, Elsa wraps a comforting arm around her head. Anna frowns at the sight. Her father sighs gently through his nose.

“I’ll run to the castle and inform Kai. You stay here and clean up both her and the mess, okay?” He asks, turning to Anna for confirmation. She nods.

“Of course, but be sure to tell him that she’s in no condition to move unless they want to carry her, and I don’t think they’d what a public drunken spectacle of the queen.” Ann says, a frown tugging at her lips. She glances to her father. “Probably wouldn’t be a good idea to have royal guards standing watch by the shop either, it’d draw too much attention. I think it best you request the castle to not send anyone for her until nightfall at the very earliest – at least then she’s be able to walk by then. With both me and you here to protect and defend it should be an agreeable arrangement, don’t you think?” Her father hums and nods absently, setting down the puke bucket and pushing to his feet.

“We’ll find out.” His deep voice rumbles as he heads out of the room. “I’ll be back soon. Take care of her.” Anna smiles.

“Always.”

In all of Anna’s fantasies about her and the queen, this is definitely not one of the scenarios she envisioned. Still, though, Anna cleans the floor, empties and cleans the bucket, helps Elsa rinse out her mouth, drink some water and cleans the royal’s face without complaint. When she’s done, she flunks onto the floor in front of the couch and leans against it.

“Thanks.” A soft voice murmurs from behind her. Anna smiles softly and turns.

“Don’t worry about it, your majesty.” Anna whispers, gently sweeping some of the queen’s bangs out of her eyes. “How are you feeling?” She asks. The queen’s laden eyes flutter open just enough to meet Anna’s.

“Better.” Elsa says, twitching a small smile. She winces slightly and pulls her blanket up around her chin, only her nose and eyes being shown with the cocoon she’s created for herself. Anna’s heart flutters in her chest and a blush dusts her cheeks.

_How— how is the queen so adorable?_

Shaking her head gently and swallowing thickly, Anna pushes to her feet.

“Where are you going?” Elsa murmurs, unable to keep her eyes open despite her effort to. Anna kneels back down and gently tucks in the blanket around the queen, smiling kindly.

“You need to sleep, your majesty.”—Anna whispers—“But I’ll be back to check on you every now and then, okay?” She asks. Her only answer is the queen relaxing and giving a barely-there nod. Still, though – Anna watches until the royal’s breathing turns slow and even, her face smoothing as she drifts off to sleep in her fluffy shelter. The sight reminds her vaguely of a little puppy snuggled in a bundle of fur, and warmth spreads through Anna’s chest at the sight.

Standing abruptly, the blacksmith turns heel and quickly scurries to the front door, her goal on the forge.

Hitting things always takes her mind off things.

 

 

*

It wasn’t the most pleasant sensation of waking up. Her head feels like it was run over by a carriage; the newly lit fire in the hearth hurts her eyes and the rhythmic slam of metal on metal just outside does nothing to ease her throbbing headache.

Groaning, Elsa tries to bury herself further into her blankets. Someone taps her shoulder.

“Court is adjourned for the day. Go home.” Elsa grumbles, desperately trying not to focus on how much every part of her hurt. She hears the person shift awkwardly.

“I have water for you. It’ll make you feel better.”

Elsa instantly recognises the gruff voice and pulls the blanket down around her neck, her mouth set in a tight line as she glares at the idiot responsible for her misery. Kristoff, a glass of water in his hand, shifts uncomfortably.

“You have no idea how lucky you are that I don’t have the strength or the focus right now to freeze you.” Elsa grits, her eyes hard. Kristoff waves her off uneasily and hands her the glass.

“I’ll listen to your threats once your back in your normal state of mind.” The groom says. Elsa notes that the man can’t quite meet her eyes, and that satisfies her enough to untangle an arm from the blanket and take the glass. The queen downs the liquid in seconds. Kristoff takes the empty glass and sets it on the floor. Elsa throws her free arm over her eyes.

“Where are our horses?” She asks, her throat raw and sore. She clears it gently. Kristoff sits back on his heels.

“Still at the stables by the pub, I presume.” He says, shrugging. Elsa nods and tries to sit up. A wave of nausea hits her, however, and she gingerly lies herself back down with a hiss. Kristoff twitches an apologetic smile. “Yeah, you won’t be in any condition to ride for at least another day.” Elsa groans irritably.

“How long have I been out?” She asks, squeezing her eyes shut in some attempt to make her stomach to stop swirling.

“Couple of hours, I think.” Kristoff says. “I just got up a little while ago myself, honestly. It was long enough to catch my bearings and grab some water, but not long enough to figure out much more than that.” He seems to register the hammering in the background and Elsa’s contorted face at the sound, because he adds; “We’re at the smithy. I remember enough to know that Anna brought us back to her place.”

“Anna?” Elsa asks, her eyebrows twisting in confusion. Then, a light bulb going off in her head, Elsa’s eyes snap open and she looks to Kristoff in shock. “Anna?” She asks again, this time with alarm in her tone. Kristoff’s eyes widen in surprise.

“Y-yes. Do you . . . do you know her?” He asks, tentatively. Elsa closes her eyes and pinches the bridge of her nose.

“Not personally.” She admits. “I’ve just seen her around the castle every now and then when she’s making a delivery from the forge. I— I don’t actually know all that much about her. I wish I did, though.” Elsa sighs and opens her eyes just in time to see Kristoff’s eyebrows raise. Elsa smirks. “It’s not all that uncommon to want to get to know someone, you know.” Kristoff nods, immediately agreeing.

“I never said otherwise it’s just, well . . . Anna’s not the type of person who I assumed would catch your attention. It’s not that she’s not interesting, because she is, she just has no manners. Well, that’s not true – she has some etiquette, just no desire to actually use it.” Kristoff says, shifting uneasily with his verbal spew. Elsa raises an eyebrow.

“You know her quite well then, I assume?” She asks, her interest peaked. Kristoff nods, an apprehensive frown tracing his lips. Elsa props herself up on her pillow. “What can you tell me about her?” She asks. Kristoff clears his throat awkwardly.

“Well, she’s nice, protective, hyperactive, awkward and uh she’s . . . she’s—” his eyes flick to the doorway and his eyes light up. “Anna!” He practically cheers. Elsa winces and gently rubs her temples.

“Please keep your voice down.” Elsa grumbles, the resultant throbbing behind her eyes at the noise forcing her to close her eyes.

“Oh!” Comes a startled voice from the doorway. She hears footsteps approach the couch and the rustle of fabric as they kneel down. “Oh wow, you don’t look very good.” The gentle voice says. Then, with a hint of panic, continues with; “not that you look bad – because you don’t; in fact you’re beautiful. W-wait, what? Did I say that?”—She chuckles nervously—“Sorry. I meant to say that you look like you’re in pain.” Elsa opens her eyes to see Anna, covered in soot and smelling like coals, wringing her hands together nervously. Elsa smiles kindly.

“I am feeling rather drained.” Elsa allows, her voice soft. The pounding in her head doesn’t really allow for much else. Anna chuckles.

“Considering how much alcohol you threw up, I not really surprised.” She says. Elsa gives her a look of horror.

“I threw u— oh no; I am _so_ sorry, I’ll have you compensated for—” Anna’s laugh cuts her off.

“It’s fine – it really wasn’t that much of a hassle. Surprising? Very, but a hassle? No. I don’t think you could be if you wanted to, honestly.” Anna says. Elsa gives the girl a look.

“Considering I froze over the kingdom, I think I can.” She says, a frown tugging at her lips. Anna leans forward and rests a hand on the edge of the couch.

“You also unfroze the kingdom.” The girl reminds her. Elsa gives her a pained smile.

“Barely.”

“But you did.” Anna insists. Elsa isn’t comforted by this and it must show on her face, because Anna leans forward and gently squeezes her shoulder. “It’s not really about what mistakes you make, it’s about how you recover and what you do about it.” She smiles kindly. “I’ve made more than my fair share of mistakes, but I’ve learned that every single one of them—no matter how embarrassing—was completely worth it, because I grew and became a better person because of it. One mistake doesn’t define you unless you let it.”

Elsa stares at Anna, her mouth working soundlessly.

Kristoff clears his throat and stands, turning to Anna.

Wow, he was still there?

“I think I’ll go outside and see how you’re dad’s doing.” He says. Elsa stops him.

“Actually,”—she says—“I think it’d be best if you grab our horses from the stable so we can head back to the castle.” Kristoff frowns.

“Didn’t we go over this? If you think I’m letting you get anywhere near a horse in your condition, you’ve got another thing coming.”

“Do you think I’ll do any better walking?” Elsa bites back. Kristoff pauses.

“Uh, no. Not really.”

Elsa nods. “Exactly.” She says.

“Some royal guards are coming to escort you back come nightfall.” Anna intercedes, trying to calm the situation. “That’ll be in less than a half an hour, and it probably wouldn’t be a good idea to leave before they got here.” Elsa blinks in surprise, but otherwise remains composed as she says:

“Guards or not, I’m not walking when my skull is pounding and I refuse to be carried.” Elsa turns her attention back to Kristoff. “Get the horses.” She turns back to Anna and, once she hears the door shut behind the man, shrugs. “Between us, it’ll probably take me an hour just to get steady enough being vertical not to hurl, but that lout doesn’t need to know that.” _Even though he’s already pretty much guessed as much._ She thinks. Anna laughs. It’s a light, melodic sound.

“Well, you’re welcome to stay here as long as you need, your majesty.”

The sudden use of formality jars Elsa, and she frowns.

“Don’t.” Elsa says. Anna’s smile falters.

“Don’t what?” She asks, a hint of trepidation in her voice.

“Use formal addresses.” Elsa replies, her lips tensing into a tight line.

“But—”

“You weren’t using them before and I rather you stick with that.” Elsa raises her hand when Anna makes to argue. “Reminding me that I’m the queen when I’m hung over and feel like shit is not positive reinforcement, and I would prefer if you didn’t make my conscious weigh any heavier than it already is.” Anna stares at Elsa for a long beat, considering. After a moment, she nods. Elsa releases the breath she wasn’t aware she was holding. “Thank you.” Elsa breathes. Anna twitches a small smile.

“Anything for you, your ma—” Anna catches herself and, before Elsa can give her a look for the slip, blurts; “Your magically amazing person. Ness. Who’s a commoner. And completely normal.” Anna’s face contorts at her awkwardness. Elsa cracks a smile.

“Good enough.” She allows. When Anna gives her a look akin to disbelief, Elsa’s smile widens to something more reassuring. “You’re a welcome relief from the proper drabble I’m forced to deal with at the castle, so relax.” Anna snorts a laugh.

“I don’t think ‘awkward peasant woman’ really counts as a relief.” She says. It’s meant as a joke, but Elsa’s face clouds over—if only for an instant—before she hums thoughtfully.

“You’d be surprised.” Elsa murmurs. An uncomfortable silence stretches for a long couple of seconds before the queen pulls herself back to the present. “So what do you do?” She asks. Anna blinks, unsure if she heard the question right. Elsa raises an eyebrow when the girl continues to stare at her with a blank expression.

Seeming to realize that the queen is still waiting for a response, Anna clears her throat.

“Sorry – what?” She asks. Elsa bites her tongue to keep from laughing.

“What do you do?” Elsa reiterates. Anna frowns, her eyes flickering up in thought.

“Well, I forge things.” She laughs awkwardly. “But you knew that already, sooo . . .” She rubs the back of her neck. “I hang out with people and fool around when I have time, but most of my spare time away from the smithy is taken up by—” Anna falters and gives Elsa a look that the queen can only describe as wary. This peaks Elsa’s interest, but her need not to push this girl away suppresses the urge to pry.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to – I was merely curious.” Elsa says with a light shrug. Silently she wonders if it has anything to do with the ‘training’ Anna had mentioned when they met earlier in the day, but she doesn’t ask. Anna shifts uneasily, her frown deepening.

“It’s not that I don’t want to it’s just . . . not something I think you’d approve of.” She says, slowly. Elsa, latching onto the chance to fulfil her curiosity, twitches a lopsided smile.

“I can assure you that whatever you’re doing can’t be any worse than some of the things I have to deal with in court. Why?”—She continues, before Anna can pose the question herself—“Because what makes something bad is the intent someone uses, and I get the feeling that you could never do anything terrible with the intention of uncalled-for malice.” The look Anna gives her in unreadable, and it slightly unnerves the queen – not that she’d ever show it.

“Okay.” Anna says, slowly – calculating. After a beat of consideration, she says; “I’ll tell you, but you have to promise to let me explain before you jump in, okay?” Elsa gives the girl a curious look, but nods nonetheless. When the queen says nothing else, Anna lets out a slow breath and runs her hand through her bangs. “Right.”—She says—“As a kid I always used to get into fights to protect my friends. With my blacksmith muscles I tended to go unrivaled, but I did lose every now and then. It was never by much and they never got out of it looking any better than me, but the fact remains.

“The point is that I got noticed by someone, and they gave me an offer to train me properly in hand-to-hand combat—both the clean moves and the dirty—and in return I would fight for him in a shady sand ring called the arena. It was my opportunity to receive the skills I needed to better protect the people I cared about, so I accepted. This was, oh, three or four years ago now, I think? Doesn’t really matter, though – what matters is that I was trained as a professional street fighter and I’ve been doing it ever since. Ah! Don’t interrupt.” Anna says, cutting herself off. Elsa’s mouth snaps shut with an auditable _click_. Anna nods her thanks.

“As I was saying; this ‘arena’ is where all the bad beef between friends, family, houses, nobles and enemies get worked out, or it’s simply used way of expelling aggression. I know this isn’t the best way of dealing with these things, but I prefer that their violent intentions to be under the surveillance of the ring than to be done as a knife in the back in an alleyway. Either way, the business of the arena—and, as a result, the business resolved there—is kept on the down-low because we don’t want the wrong person hearing about it and want to shut it down. Not that I don’t disagree with that intention, it’s just that I’ve been in that circle long enough to know what would happen if it were to be shut down without an alternative method set in place.” Anna finishes, shrugging faintly. Elsa stares at her for a long, searching beat before:

“How do the fights work?” Elsa asks. Anna tries to seek explanation for the curiosity, but Elsa knows her queenly mask is too firmly in place for the girl to find anything. A frown tugs at the girl’s lips.

“You have people like me—who are fixed champions you can buy if you don’t have your own—family champions, hired champions, untrained champions—if you can’t afford a fighter or want to duke it out yourself—and squabblers, who are generally a waste of time—because they have absolutely no skills—but we don’t deny them. Typically only people in the same category can fight each other but there are exceptions made when skill levels are equivalent, which is regularly seen between the fixed, family and hired champions. Family and hired champions are preferred over fixed champions, but that’s because fixed fighters who have been around for a while can only be matched by other fixed fighters or warriors who are highly skilled, and, as such, are really expensive.

“As for the fighting itself, the only thing that’s off bounds is permanently maiming the other person unless there has been a clause contract that’s been signed by both fighting parties. Other than that, the fight goes on until someone yields, passes out, is knocked out, purposefully goes out of bounds or breaks the rules.” Anna says. She pauses, trying to think of anything she might have missed, before nodding to herself. “That’s about it.” She concludes. Elsa nods slowly.

“Do you like doing this?” She asks. Unease makes Anna’s frown deepen.

“Fighting? I don’t think anyone really likes it. The discipline of it and the training aspect are nice, but I could do without the pointless violence. Some of it is unavoidable, I admit, but a lot of it is, and I wish those people would take a more peaceful route.” Anna says.

“Hm.” Elsa hums, rubbing her mouth gently. She came into town to find out about the population and what they needed, and this certainly seems to be an issue that she should look into. Anna shifts anxiously.

“Please tell me what you’re thinking.” Anna says, her voice timid.

“Do you want to create a better solution?” Elsa asks, avoiding directly answering the question. Anna’s eyebrows furrow and her frown tugs ever deeper.

“I— yes, I suppose. I mean, if the right alternative was created I’d be more than happy to accept it, but—”

“I want you to come to the castle at least three times a week to meet with me, then.” Elsa interrupts, making up her mind. Breaking her queenly domineer, she sends the girl a friendly smile. In response to the shock on the girl’s face, Elsa explains; “I came into town to try to get a better grasp as to what the population is like and what it needs of me, and this sounds like something I should deal with. You come into play because you know the streets and opinions far better than I do; so while I can enforce a change, I wouldn’t exactly know what to enforce without your input.” At the look the girl gives her, Elsa continues with; “or not. You could still come to me with other issues though, if you like – you seem like you know a lot about what’s going on.”

“No, sorry – I’m just, wow; I’m surprised you’d ask, is all.” Anna says, disbelief and half-hidden delight bubbling up to the surface. “Are you sure you want me, though?” She asks. Elsa smiles.

“I’d love to have you.” She confirms, omitting the fact that she’s been wanting to spend time with the blacksmith ever since she first saw her making a delivery to the castle almost a year ago. Anna beams.

“Then it’s settled!” She says, then falters. “But I have intense training this week on top of a huge order I have to fill, so I won’t have any available time until next week, and even then I won’t have a fixed schedule.” Elsa waves off the girl’s concern.

“Set times are for people who know you’d never otherwise give the time of day.” She jibes. Anna laughs. Elsa sobers. “But seriously, you don’t have to come on days that you’re busy, and I’ll accept an audience with you right up until sunset. Hell, if you arrive at sunset I’ll even set you up with a room for the night and supply you with everything you’ll need.”

“Whoa— seriously? You— wow. That’s . . . that’s very generous of you. Are you sure? Because that’s a pretty big offer.” Anna says, practically bouncing with equal amounts of worry and excitement. Elsa laughs.

“You’re one person and you’re pleasant company – I wouldn’t mind you staying a night or two.”

 _Or a couple dozen._ Her thoughts add.

The smile Anna gives her is so radiant that it nearly blinds the queen.

“Thank you; I’ll definitely take you up on that.”

_Score!_

Despite her inner excitement, Elsa merely smiles politely.

“I’m glad,”—she says—“it’ll be nice to have you livening the place up.” Anna’s grin grows until it’s almost splitting her face.

They fall into comfortable silence. Well, comfortable to Elsa, at any rate – she’s not quite sure how the blacksmith is taking it, or if she notices it at all. The said girl has a delighted, distant look on her face and doesn’t look like she’s aware of her surroundings at all. Elsa doesn’t mind – in fact she uses the breather to assess how stable she is and the likelihood of her head surviving a horse ride back to the castle. She feels fine laying down, but her body protests violently the moment she tries sitting up. Hissing, Elsa slowly eases herself back down.

“Are you okay?” Anna’s worried voice asks, snapping the queen from her thoughts. Elsa tries to smile, but she knows it probably comes out as something more of a grimace.

“Considering my body and brain are only useful to me so long as I don’t move, I’ll have to say no.” Elsa drawls, gently rubbing her temples. After a beat, she sighs softly. “I don’t think I can ride for at least a couple more hours, and even then it’s going to take a miracle.” She pauses. “And a lot of water.” She adds. Anna chuckles softly as she stands.

“I’ll grab you some bread, too – it’ll do you a world of good.” She says, already on her way to the kitchen.

“I hope so.” Elsa murmurs, letting her eyes flutter shut.

 

 

*

Anna, just finishing pouring a glass of water, wraps a slice of bread in a cloth and renters the living room.

“Here we go, bread and water – the cure to—” Anna lets her words putter out as her eyes land on the queen’s relaxed face, closed eyes and even breath. A small smile twitches at the corners of Anna’s lips at the sight. She steps forward and sets the water and wrapped bread on the floor beside the couch. She stands—planning to get back to helping her father at the forge—when her eyes land once again on the young monarch’s face.

 _She’s giving you the chance to make a difference, a_ real _difference – the one you’ve been wanting make ever since you got wrapped up in this shit._ Affectionate tears well in Anna’s eyes at the thought.

Elsa, the one she’s been admiring for beauty for the Gods who knows how long, has completely blown her away with her show of kindness and generosity.

_Gods, Elsa – you’re better than I could have ever imagined._

Anna’s eyes continue to linger on the queen’s sleeping features until her last thought, and the emotions that came with it, hit her head on. Flushing, Anna turns heel and heads for the entryway.

She may have gotten an audience and an invitation from the queen, but that doesn’t mean it will ever lead to anything more.

 

 **Epilogue:** Over the course of a couple months, Anna helps Elsa better understand the population and fix multiple problems that they had been facing, including the street-fighting ring. Within this time, Elsa comes to rely on Anna as her connection to the people and what her kingdom wants from her. The news that Anna is personally consulting the queen on such matters spreads quickly, making her both more loved and something of a target. She has to fight her way out of multiple attempts of her life and, in the end, Elsa assigns guards to both her and her father, and eventually convinces them both to temporarily stay at the castle when it only gets worse.

Anna’s father returns home permanently—not just going there for work with Anna every day—after living with Elsa for three weeks. Anna was going to go with him, but Elsa insisted otherwise and, unable to say no to the one her heart secretly belongs to, agrees.

Almost half a year since the day they finally made each other’s acquaintance, and two months since Anna permanently started living in the castle, both girls finally confess their feelings for each other. Four months later—under some pressure from the council to bare an heir—Elsa asks Anna to marry her—to which she says ‘yes’—and purposefully leaves out the ‘male companion’ clause in the marriage contract, just to spite them. To mend this flaw, Anna somehow convinces her father to remarry and have children. His firstborn is named heir to the throne.

Elsa and Anna marry a year after they were first engaged, and they both take their differing roles in running the kingdom – Elsa in the tactical, and Anna in practical and public relations. They still get their far share of problems—both in relation to the kingdom and from Anna’s old life—but they somehow always seem to weather the storm and make it through.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be honest I didn't exactly know what to do with this prompt, because I feel as though it's one of those things that require time; something one-shots can't really capture that well. I tried my best, so hopefully it turned out to your satisfaction.
> 
> Anyway, please give suggestions and vote in the comment section below for the next one-shot. I’ll choose an idea in 3-4 days, after which give me 3-7 days to write, edit and post the chapter.


	4. Arms Dealer Elsa and Slave Anna, Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>  Prompt Selected from Archive of Our Own (On June 11).  
> The Next Prompt will be Selected on June 21 or 22.
> 
> **Pre-story:**
> 
> Elsa is one of the most successful arms dealers in the region, dealing to small groups and large gangs alike from Corona all the way to Arendelle, including all the kingdoms and small towns in-between. Her particular personal ‘business’ has venues dotted throughout the land, and many people—merchants and sell-swords alike—pledge themselves to her service for the guaranteed coin she draws in. They know, however, that to cross her means unwavering torture and death, possibly by the Snow Queen’s hand herself.
> 
> For common affairs that need looking after on a daily basis closer to home, Elsa had bought a small handful of slaves. She instilled fear in them, warning them of the consequences of crossing her, yet promising them food, a warm bed and protection so long as they remain loyal. She has never had any trouble with her slaves. Until Anna.
> 
> Anna had come as part of a take-it-or-leave-it package deal, and the goods had been too precious to pass up. The girl herself was scatterbrained, tough to break in, klutzy and an all-around bother. After she had damaged goods worth twice her weight in gold, Elsa had one of her slaves—Kai—whip the girl until she deemed the lithe thing had learned her lesson. In all actuality, Kai’s whip hadn’t even landed seven times before the girl was weeping uncontrollably. Elsa made him whip to eleven for good measure. She hasn’t had any more trouble the redhead since.
> 
> Anna became Elsa’s slave two months ago, and Elsa had her whipped one month ago.
> 
> Character tag added: Gerta.

Anna silently nudges her way into her master’s quant little study with a small handful of letters and missives. She keeps her eyes respectfully lowered as she crosses the room and gently sets the new pile of paperwork on the corner of the Snow Queen’s desk.

The woman doesn’t look up from her parchment; her quill flying across it with a trained finesse.

Anna lets out a silent breath of relief at going unnoticed—not wanting to be in the same room as her owner for longer than necessary—and turns to leave.

“Fetch me some tea.”

Anna freezes mid-stride. Her eyes widen in shock—and more than a little fear—and she instantly whips around and bows.

“As you command, master.” Anna says, gritting her teeth in a desperate attempt to keep the waver out of her voice. Elsa doesn’t pay her any mind, however, and the fiery redhead dutifully takes her cue and leaves. She clenches and unclenches her fists in an attempt to keep them from shaking as she makes her way to the kitchen.

Elsa has never personally laid a hand on her, or ever lashed out at her in malice aside her reaction to her clumsiness that ended in eleven lashes, but it was enough. It was enough to install fear in her heart with an unwavering persistence that barely allows her to keep her composure. Ironically, that same fear is the only reason she hasn’t lost face in front of the others.

Anna pushes her way into the kitchen and smiles half-heartedly at the cook, Gerta.

“Our master wants some tea.” Anna says. Gerta raises an eyebrow.

“You can call her by name when you’re out of her presence, you know.” She replies, humour lacing her tone as she pumps water into a pot and hangs it in the hearth above the crackling fire. Anna’s lip twitches at the plump woman’s words, but she forces herself to smile wider nonetheless.

“I’ll bear that in mind.”

A frown tugs on Gerta’s lips and she glances to the girl—who had been delightful joy until her punishment four weeks ago—and takes in the girl’s tense shoulders and strained smile. Anna nearly falters under the scrutiny. Gerta hums thoughtfully and goes back to her task of preparing dinner. A part of Anna hopes that that’s the end of it, but she knows the woman too well for that. Shifting uncomfortably, Anna shoves her thumb over her shoulder.

“I have to go help with the laundry, can you deliver the tea when it’s done?”

“No.”

Anna is already halfway to the door when she hears Gerta’s answer, and she stumbles. She turns around with a wide-eyed, baffled expression – but the cook isn’t looking at her. Anna takes a moment to straighten and collect herself before awkwardly clearing her throat.

“No?” She questions.

“No.” Gerta confirms. Anna’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. It’s unlike the woman to so bluntly refuse something.

“May I . . . may I ask why?” Anna asks, a little too hesitant and meek for her own liking. Gerta glances up at younger woman, an unreadable expression on her face, before she resumes her current task of making dough.

“Because you have to learn to not fear her.” She says. Anna chokes on her own spit.

“W-what?” Anna sputters, barking a forced laugh. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Gerta hums.

“No? Funny, the scars on your back tell a different story.” The woman murmurs. Anna’s heart seizes and bile rises in her throat, but still somehow manages a soft, semi-believable chuckle.

“Slaves get punished all the time, it’s not a big deal.” Anna gibes, with a good humour that doesn’t feel. Gerta doesn’t spare her a glance, but her next words are enough to tell Anna that the woman sees right through her.

“It is when it’s your first time.”

Anna’s breath hitches in her throat and the muscles in her back go rigid. How did Gerta know? Sure, there’s no marring on Anna’s skin aside from the lashing, but that doesn’t mean that she wasn’t harmed before in a way that didn’t show. Hell, for all the cook knows Anna could have been sexually assaulted or something – it certainly wasn’t uncommon. As if hearing Anna’s unspoken rant, Gerta says:

“You refuse to look at your back in the mirror when you’re changing or bathing; the marks of the lashes are the only blemishes on your body; you were cheerful and blissfully naïve when you first came in – the face of one who hasn’t seen the crueller side of things; but, most importantly, your bubbly demeanor has been viciously sapped from your bones ever since your punishment.” Gerta finally looks up from kneading dough to give Anna a pained glance. “You’re scared of Elsa because you know that she has the power to do that to you again, but Anna – you have to let it go. Fearing her will only make your nervousness worse, meaning you _will_ end up doing something that’ll force her hand to come down on you once again.” Anna swallows the lump in her throat and clenches her fists to keep them from shaking.

“I’m trying.” She chokes, with a strangled quality that she wishes wasn’t there. “I trying to be the efficient slave she wants me to be but it’s so _hard_ because I’m not the person she needs and I’m terrified that she’ll realize this and sell me to someone else. What if who she sells me to is an abusive molester, or something? Or what if she decides to keep me for target practice?”

“She wouldn’t do that—”

“How do you know?” Anna shouts. She swallows her dread and lowers her voice. “She’s so cold and untouchable that I can never tell what she’s thinking. Every time she looks at me I worry that she’s going to chastise me or tell me that I’m not good enough to keep around – that I only hinder her operation.” Gerta’s eyes soften and she wipes off her hands on her apron.

“I know because you have been in her base of operations – she wouldn’t sell you and risk sensitive information reaching the wrong hands, and she wouldn’t beat you in fear of you turning on her and selling her out.” Even though the woman’s words are meant to be comforting, Anna chokes back a sob.

“What if she decides to kill me?”

The blood drains from Gerta’s face and she rushes up to the girl, quickly scooping her up into her arms.

“She won’t kill you.” Gerta whispers fiercely. Anna grips at the woman’s tunic, weeping heavily into the older woman’s shoulder. Gerta rubs the girl’s back in soothing circles. “Shh – it’s okay; you’ll be fine.” The cook glances up to see Kai standing in the doorway, his face twisted in concern. How much of their conversation had he heard? Gerta takes the opportunity and says; “I’ll get Kai to deliver the tea to Elsa, alright?” Anna nods meekly into the older woman’s shoulder, her grip tightening in thanks. Kai nods his compliance to Gerta and silently goes about making the tea. It’s the least he can do.

 

*

Elsa hears the soft click of her door opening and, without looking up, nods to the corner of her desk.

“Set the tray there.” She says, her voice crisp and brokering no room for argument. The tray is obediently set on her desk, but the person delivering it doesn’t leave. Elsa tries to ignore them as she continues working out the details of the most recent weapons order, but when she hears them clearing their throat she sighs and leans back in her chair. She cocks an eyebrow when her eyes land on Kai instead of the immature girl she had expected.

“Need something?” Elsa asks, not portraying any hint of surprise. Kai hums a soft affirmative.

“I need to talk to you about Anna.” He says. Elsa’s eyes narrow, internally bracing herself.

“What’d she do this time?” She clips, with much more bite than she intended. For his part, Kai isn’t the least bit fazed.

“It’s not so much about what did so much as it is about what _you_ did.” He replies. Elsa frowns.

“I don’t understand.”

Kai sighs softly through his nose. “No, I don’t suppose you would.” Elsa could have the man whipped for his border-line insubordination, but she’s known Kai for too long to think of him as anything less than an equal. So instead, she simply nods in recognition and waits for him to continue. Kai twitches a small smile in response, but it quickly fades as he says; “Anna’s scared of you.”

Elsa stares Kai, her face void of comprehension. How, exactly, is this a problem? Instead of saying this in so many words, however, she simply says:

“And?”

Kai frowns, and Elsa sees a flash of bewilderment pass through his eyes.

“You don’t see this as a problem?” He asks slowly, his words carefully measured. It’s Elsa’s turn to frown.

“Since it’s been helping her do her job better, no – I don’t particularly see how it’s an issue.” Elsa suspects that if Kai wasn’t so good at keeping his poise, that he would have slapped himself in the face in exasperation.

“It wouldn’t be,”—Kai concedes—“ _if_ it hadn’t of progressed to the point where she’s so terrified of you that the simple thought of being in the same room as you is enough to bring her to tears.” Elsa blinks, stunned, and opens her mouth to respond – but Kai isn’t finished. “The rest of us serve you diligently and without question because we trust you and have faith that you’ll keep to your promises, but that isn’t the case with Anna; to her you embody everything she fears. Hell, it’s to the point that she’s practically afraid _walking wrong_ will summon your ire. As much as a little fear helps control people, too much can come back and bite you in the ass.” Elsa pales.

“She’s that scared of me?” She asks, her voice soft.

Had she really invoked such fear in the girl? Elsa’s only intention was to snap the girl into place, not break her. Why had Elsa not considered the possibility that Anna wouldn’t have taken the cue from the others, telling her that Elsa respects them just as long as they respect her? She’s not some . . . some _monster_ that you have treat like a fucking deity in order to keep your head on your shoulders. Yet, apparently, that’s what seems to be happening.

Kai’s eyes soften as he watches Elsa’s emotions pass over her face.

“It’s not too late to turn things around and change her opinion.” Kai says, his voice gentle. Elsa groans and rubs her face with her hands.

“How the hell am I suppose to do that? I’m not exactly the most approachable woman in the world, Kai – how do you know I’m not just going to frighten the girl further?” She asks, bitter. Kai shrugs.

“You could just compliment her.” The man suggests. Elsa barks a incredulous laugh.

“Right, I can see it now; ‘your work efficiency rate has improved almost sixty-four percent over the past couple weeks. Good job.’”

“Give her a gift.”

“I suck at gifts – I’d end up buying a fucking squirrel or an ugly ass bonnet.”

“Take her on a tour of the town.”

“Because she definitely wants to know where all the shady people hang out, or get groped at a bar or figure out where my clients live.” Kai sighs. Elsa gives him a sharp look. “I don’t make it a point of going around town for _fun_ , Kai – how the hell am I suppose to know where anything interesting is?”

“You ask.” The man deadpans. Elsa glowers at him. Kai raises his hands in surrender. “Fine; you win. Why don’t you just get her in here and talk to her? You’re not bad at conversation—maybe a little awkward when dealing with personal issues—but you’re otherwise good at it.” Elsa rolls her eyes.

“Such high praise.” She drawls. Kai’s lips twitch as he tries to suppress his humour. Elsa sighs. “Okay, this is obviously something I need to deal with and actually get right, so how about some advice?” Kai raises an eyebrow.

“I already gave you advice,”—he says—“you just didn’t take it.” Elsa glares at him and works her jaw. Kai gets the hint and gives an exaggerated, exasperated sigh—earning him an eye twitch from Elsa—and says; “if you intend on speaking with her here, I suggest you have a list of compliments drawn up – and, before you say anything, try to make the compliments normal.” Elsa frowns.

“Like, ‘you look nice’?” She questions. Kai visibly twitches with the effort to not laugh. Elsa scowls. “I don’t understand why this has to be so fucking difficult – I never had to do this with any of my other slaves, and look how well you all turned out!” Kai beams at the unintended compliment, but retains his professional demeanor.

“Most of us had previous owners, though – we could see and feel the difference of your ownership in comparison to the others we’ve had. You were admittedly strict and distant, but you weren’t cruel and you looked after us; the fact that you warmed up to us over time was just an unforeseen bonus. The issue you have to deal with with Anna is the fact that she doesn’t have this background – she may know in her head that she could have had much worse, but she doesn’t understand it, not really. You’re just going to have to work with her.”

Elsa mulls over the man’s words in her head. How is she suppose to ‘work with’ someone who doesn’t know the difference between her ownership and someone else’s? Sure being a slave to Elsa means you have far more room to breathe than with most other owners, but it’s definitely not as much as you’d get if you were free; so if Anna had been free up until Elsa bought her . . . goddamn it.

Sighing softly, Elsa waves in the door’s general direction, beseeching Kai to leave.

“Bring her to me.” Elsa breathes.

 

*

Anna paces outside of Elsa’s personal study, wringing her hands together nervously.

When Kai had come to inform her that the arms dealer wanted to see her, Anna had just barely recovered from her melt-down in Gerta’s arms. She had collected herself remarkably well, considering, but the familiar constriction of anxiety had fully latched onto her before she had made it to her destination, and now she can’t find the courage to knock.

Where was her; ‘do now, think later’ attitude when she really needed it?

One of the other slaves—Marshmallow? Marshall?—gives her a strange look as he passes, but otherwise says nothing as he continues on his way. It was enough to at least calm her jerky motions and wild, crazy eyes.

“Come on Anna, you got this!” Anna whispers fiercely – giving herself a pep talk. “Just go in there and be totally cool about whatever she has to say, and pretend to be competent. You can do that, right? Right! Because I’m awesome!”

Before she can doubt herself again, Anna turns and lands three crisp knocks on the door.

_Wow, that was a little loud; I probably should have rapped a little lighter. Oh, gods, she doesn’t like loud noises, does she? Fuck. Damn it all to—_

“Come in.”

Anna’s heart leaps into her throat. Elsa doesn’t sound angry, did she? No, she sounds pretty average. That’s a good sign right?

Momentarily relieved, Anna pushes into the room and shuts the door behind her before bowing respectfully. When several seconds drag on in painful silence—not even filled with the familiar scratch of Elsa’s quill—Anna shifts uncomfortably. Still lowered in her bow, Anna clears her throat gently.

“You summoned me?” She asks. Although she doesn’t see the other woman, she hears something akin to someone jolting in surprise. Before she can think any more of it, however, she hears:

“Yes – yes I did. Please take a seat.”

Bile rises in Anna’s throat as she obeys her master’s order and takes the proffered chair – the only other one in the room aside from Elsa’s. That said woman shifts behind her desk, a frown tugging at her lips.

 _Oh gods, she does_ not _look happy._ Anna thinks, her heart sinking to her stomach. She still manages to retain her cool—by some odd stroke of luck—and silently waits for Elsa to start the conversation.

If she’d known at the time that she’d have to wait _two full minutes_ before Elsa so much as clears her throat, Anna would have just asked her owner why she summoned her lowly little slave right off the bat.

Then again, she doesn’t really want to get to the why-Elsa’s-annoyed-with-her any sooner than she has to.

Eventually—Anna stopped keeping track of time by this point—Elsa rubs her mouth and nods softly – confirming whatever the hell is going through her head.

“I hear you don’t like me.” She says. Anna chokes on spit. Elsa’s eyebrows furrow in thought. “Well, I suppose ‘I frighten you’ would be a better why of phrasing it.” She amends. Not that that wording makes it any better. Anna laughs nervously.

“Frightened? Me? I don’t—” she clears her throat awkwardly, trying to lower her pitch back into its normal register. “I don’t know want you’re talking about – I think you’re great. A great ruler. Er, master – because you don’t rule— well, technically you practically own the arms dealer business in over three kingdoms, but you’re not, like, in control of a town or anything. Uh, well yes— you are, in a sense; you just don’t officially own the rights. Although you probably have enough connections to—” Anna drops her face into her hand and groans. “Fucking Heavens – why don’t you just smite me and get it over with?” She mutters, viciously rubbing her temples. After a couple seconds of awkward silence, Anna chances a glance at her owner.

Elsa, stock still and staring at her with rounded eyes, blinks. _Blinks_. That’s her _only_ reaction.

 _Well, goodbye head – it was nice to know you while you were attached to my shoulders._ Anna thinks, resorting to morbid humour to distract herself from the blank expression on her master’s face.

Elsa weakly clears her throat. Anna tenses.

“That was, uh . . .” Elsa trails off, a frown tugging at her lips. She briefly glances down at something on her desk before looking back up to Anna. “You have nice eyes?”

Anna would have laughed if shock hadn’t unhinged her jaw and left her gaping at the older woman.

_That’s certainly . . . wow, okay – didn’t expect that._

Realizing her mouth is still hanging open, she snaps it shut with an audible _click_. Something similar to unease flashes in Elsa’s eyes, but before she can say anything, Anna finds herself nodding slowly – disbelievingly.

“Okay.” She says.

_You’re going to have to do better than that, moron._

Anna clears her throat. “I mean thank you. That’s very kind.” Anna swears she sees some of the tension in the older woman’s shoulders fade away, but it’s so slight that she could have easily imagined it. Elsa nods, accepting Anna’s answer.

“You’re welcome.” Something Anna can’t decipher passes over Elsa’s features, and she says; “I wanted to apologize for punishing you.”—Anna winces at the reminder—“All the others I bought were already used to having a strict schedule and routine, so all I had to do was explain their duties to them and how I wanted things done and they just sort of fell into place. I tried doing that with you, but it didn’t work. I tried other tactics, but when you destroyed some of my merchandise,”—Anna winces again—“I was so frustrated that I resorted to brutality – something I usually save for people who try to do me wrong in business. It was the first time I ever had one of my slaves punished, so I was unaware of how this would have effected you emotionally. Typically I don’t care about how people feel, but you live under my roof and under my protection, and I don’t want to see you hurt – least of all by me.”

A weariness falls over Elsa’s face on a scale Anna’s never seen before, but before she can address it, Elsa continues with:

“I didn’t mean to make you frightened to be in my care, and I’m sorry that I’ve caused you so much heartache.” Elsa’s gaze flickers to her desk, and her jaw muscles bulge. Whether it’s because she’s emotionally effected by her words or she’s irate over having to spit them out is beyond Anna, but she finds herself relaxing back into her chair nonetheless.

“So you’re not going to kill me?” She finds herself asking, genuine relief fluttering into her voice. Elsa’s eyes snap up to the girl, surprise shimmering in those brilliant blue irises.

“What? No! Kill yo— who the hell told you I was going to kill you?” Elsa grits, anger flooding her features and looking very ready to murder the son of a bitch who filled her slave’s head with lies. Too bad the culprit _is_ that said slave. Anna clears her throat awkwardly.

“N-no one did. My imagination kinda just . . . got away from me.” She says. Elsa stares at her for a long couple of seconds, processing the words.

“You thought I was going to kill you?” Elsa whispers. Anna’s eyes widen as she hears the unadulterated anguish in the woman’s tone.

 _I would applaud you for knowing exactly how to make this situation worse than it strictly needed to be, but I’m afraid you may be daft enough to take it as a compliment._ Anna shakes her head to rid it of the stupid voice.

“No.” Anna says firmly – with much more conviction than she actually feels. “Technically I just knew it was a possibility, but I knew it wouldn’t actually happen unless I was completely incapable and couldn’t hold my tongue.”

_Aaand now you’re lying to make her feel better. Cool. Well, it’s probably better than admitting that you were frightened of her to the point where if she so much as twitched her finger when you were in the same room as her you’d want to burst into tears. . . .Yeah – keep up what you’re doing._

Now she needs the approval from her inner voice?

 _Fuck me – I need help._ Anna thinks, barely suppressing a sigh.

Elsa’s face twists indecisively. “I don’t think that make it any better.” She says slowly, a frown tugging at her lips. Anna shrugs.

“Maybe not,”—she concedes, before giving Elsa a shy, self-conscious smile—“but you’re making up for it.” It takes a second for her words to sink in, but when they do the corners of Elsa’s lips curl upwards. Anna thinks this is the first time she’s seen the woman smile.

“That means you don’t want a squirrel, right?” She asks. Anna frowns.

“What?”

Elsa waves her off. “Never mind. Are you feeling any better?” Anna wants to press the arms dealer about the squirrel comment—why the hell would she want a squirrel?—but she somehow manages to contain herself.

“I’m better than I was.” Anna allows. “This is sort of out of the blue and I haven’t really had time to process it or let it sink in, so I think I may be in shock. Because, really, the last thing I expected when I came in here was for you to be all noble and bashful and apologize for invoking your right to punish me. Don’t get me wrong – I’m glad you did, _really_ glad—so thank you—it’s just that I never expected it.” Anna smiles timidly and rubs the back of her neck. Elsa appraises her for a moment. She hums softly to herself.

“You’re surprisingly good company.” She murmurs, barely loud enough for Anna to hear. Anna beams, flashing her teeth in a dazzling grin – even though she’s pretty sure Elsa’s comment wasn’t meant for her to hear.

“Good; because you are too. Totally didn’t expect it, considering, well, everything – but the fact still remains.”

_Way to go and indirectly insult your owner. Congratulations._

Despite the implications of her inner scolding, however, Anna finds herself literally jolting in shock as Elsa barks a surprised laugh. Huh – guess today is the one of many firsts.

“Glad to know I’m still fit for regular conversation.” Elsa teases— _teases?_ Fuck, is this woman the same one who bought her?—with a playful spark glistening in her eyes. Anna shrugs.

“At least one of us are. Even if that person just happens to have a thing for squirrels.” Anna gibes, silently prodding for an explanation. Elsa raises an eyebrow. Anna's lips twitch into a smile. “It was random and I’m curious. Humour me.” It probably isn’t the best idea to make a demand of her master—who she’s still a little on the fence about—but Elsa doesn’t look particularly offended. Well, technically she doesn’t really react at all, but that’s a good sign. Right?

“Humour you, eh?” Elsa whispers, rubbing her jaw gently as she considers whether or not she should bend to her slave’s request. After a moment she hums thoughtfully and leans back in her chair. “Kai mentioned something about getting you a gift to clear the air, but I’m not exactly good at domestic how-do’s and said as such by saying I’d probably end up buying you a rodent.” Anna fights the urge to laugh, instead asking:

“You were going to buy me a gift?” It’s an oddly endearing thought.

A thoughtful, uncertain frown tugs at Elsa’s lips. “Not unless you want a puke-green bonnet.” Off Anna’s look, Elsa continues with; “I never would have gotten you a squirrel – it would have been a pain in the ass to have it jumping, scratching and leaving poop everywhere.” Anna raises her hand for Elsa to stop.

“I’m still on the ‘puke-green bonnet’.” Anna says, trying to hold back her amusement. She fails miserably and begins guffawing loudly. Elsa gives her a sharp look.

“You can drop this ‘bad at gifts’ thing at any time.” She says. Anna catches the warning in the older woman’s tone and sobers immediately, gently clearing her throat.

“Of course. Is there anything else you need of me?” She asks, reverting back to the politeness of her position. The change seems to allow Elsa to relax, and all of the older woman’s calm collectiveness falls back into place.

“No – that’s all I wanted to discuss with you. You may return to your duties.”

Anna stands and bows respectively at the shoulders. “As you wish.” She says, turning heel and walking for the door. When she has the door halfway open, Elsa’s voice halts her.

“Have you had a proper tour of the town, yet?”—The arms dealer asks, sounding slightly nervous—“Because I’m more than willing to bring you the next time I go.” Anna smiles softly to herself.

Maybe this situation isn’t as bad as she let herself believe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just started _[I Don't Knock - I Kick the Door Down](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1777585)_ , and if it's liked enough that people want me to continue it, these one-shot updates will be coming slower than usual.
> 
> Random note: I'm getting a large upper back tattoo tomorrow (I'll be under the needle for 3-4 hours), so please forgive me if I end up ignoring you guys for a couple days in a blur of pain.
> 
> Please feel free to leave prompts.


	5. Time Lord Anna and Joan d'Arc Elsa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a Doctor Who / Frozen / Historical crossover. If you don't know anything about Doctor Who, this one-shot will _really_ confuse you.
> 
> Prompt Selected from AO3  
>  (Seriously FFnet people, you have 2900 views to my 251 on AO3 and you don’t prompt; I don’t understand)
> 
>  **Pre-story / history lesson:** Anna is the Doctor, travelling over time and space in the TARDIS for sightseeing and saving the galaxy time and time again. No matter how long as she’s lived (nearly a millennium) or how much she accomplished, however, her mind is always drawn back to her lonely childhood where she would talk to the painting of Joan of Arc. After learning the tragic end to her heroine, Anna expressed her desire to travel to that time and save the French maiden when she became old enough to travel alone. That is when her teachers taught her about Fixed Points – events that have to happen, always will happen and can never be changed. Joan’s life and death, they explained, where fixed points in time that could never be altered. It is a painful bit of knowledge Anna has always carried with her.
> 
> In the early 1400’s, Joan of Arc rose from being a peasant—who could neither read nor write—to being commander of the French forces—though she herself never fought in battle—to take enough French land back from the English to crown Charles VII the King of France. After Charles secured his throne (in 1429) he had no interest in any more conquests, for being king—wealthy and recognised—was all he wanted. Joan continued her advancement on the English despite this, but without the support of the king and reinforcements, she found herself at a disadvantage and eventually captured by the English (in May, 1430). France was allowed to bail Joan if they so pleased, but Charles refused and left Joan to the mercy of the English.
> 
> In the trail she had 70 charges laid against her, but it was eventually narrowed to 12. Long story short, Joan was offered a deal for her to live if she signed off on a document that renounced her claim to hearing God and reverted back to wearing women’s clothes. She agreed. However, several days later—whether from taunts, threats of rape from the guards or something else, no one knows—she changed back to men’s clothes. When members of the court came to confront her about it, she claimed to hearing the voices again and they condemned her to burn at the stake for failing rehabilitation (in May, 1431).
> 
> Also, as sited from: http://www.history.com/news/7-things-you-didnt-know-about-joan-of-arc
> 
> “Joan’s real name was Jehanne d’Arc, Jehanne Tarc, Jehanne Romée or possibly Jehanne de Vouthon—but she didn’t go by any of these. ... Joan referred to herself only as “Jehanne la Pucelle” (“Joan the Maid”) and initially testified that she didn’t know her last name.”
> 
> For the sake of simplicity, however, I will stick with Joan d’Arc.
> 
> This story starts when Joan is in her cell after being condemned to burn, waiting for someone to take her away to her death.
> 
> Tags added: 'Female Doctor (Doctor Who)' and 'Historical' (duh).

Well, Joan supposes, it could have turned out worse. How, exactly, is a mystery on its own, but at least the ultimate decision to be killed instead of live had been her choice. Not that living would have been any more gratifying under the keen, slimy eyes of English pigs.

Sighing softly, Joan shifts to make her cross-legged position against the wall a little more comfortable.

Her cell, though dank and dirty, is a fair enough size. She could to without the constant rank fumes from the waste bucket in the corner that the guards make a very pointed effort of only throwing it out when it's overflowing, but overall it's alright. As alright as being an English prisoner for over a year can be, at any rate.

Joan absently runs a hand along the french braid draped over her left shoulder and the other through her wind-blown bangs—staying that way mainly from dirt and sweat—and purses her lips in discontent. Before getting captured she had always had her hair cut short, but after she was in the hands of the English it was out of her power to keep it that way. She could have asked, if she really wanted to, but she highly doubts that the ones who hate her equally for acting a man's role as much as they do her feats in battle would let her hair be chopped short.

Letting out a miserable groan, Joan tilts her head back until it connects with the uneven stone wall behind her.

"Could be worse." Joan whispers fluently in Middle French. She glances around her cell and into the stone wall passageway outside the bars. "Can't see by how much, though."

All is quiet for a moment, until it's broken by something Joan can only describe as a mechanical whirr that fades in and out. She frowns and glances around— and her heart thuds into full gear as her eyes connect to the faint image of a large blue box in the corner of her cell comes into existence, and slowly starts to solidify.

Joan quickly scurries to the other side of the room and presses her back flush against the stone, her breath coming in heavy, panicked huffs as the image of the box continues to grow stronger and more distinct.

"What sort of witchcraft is this?" Joan whispers, too frightened to recognize the irony in her statement. When the blue box fully solidifies and the whirring stops, Joan swallows audibly. She briefly glances at the characters neatly printed across the front—even though she knows she has no chance of actually reading it—before looking at the design itself. Although she wishes it's shape would give her some hint of the box's origin, she can match nothing in her memory to the object in front of her.

Just when she's about to lose herself in ripping her memory apart, the door of the box opens.

Joan's heart pounds in her ears, her mouth goes dry and her hands grow clammy with sweat.

Before fear can set too far into her chest, however, a redhead with twin braids, teal eyes and a blinding smile jumps out of the foreign blue box and checks out her surroundings. While the girl is distracted, Joan quickly looks her over. The style the girl wears is almost completely unfamiliar, but it's recognizable enough for Joan to peg the woman as human or, at least—Elsa amends as she glances back to the box—human enough.

The shorter woman wears a blue collared shirt with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows, an ice blue tie that's clipped in place with a piece of silver metal with an engraved snowflake on it, formal looking tailored black pants that the collared shirt is half tucked into, and finally some odd but comfortable looking blue and black shoes.

By the time Joan is done her appraisal, she is startled to find the woman staring right at her with her head tilted curiously.

If Joan wasn't scared paralyzed, she'd probably be shitting her pants.

The red haired woman flashes Joan a toothy grin, her eyes dancing with excitement.

Then, much to Joan's surprise, the redhead dips into a bow.

"Pardon me for my entrance, but I honestly doubted I'd be able to get down here and get you out so close to your execution." The woman says, rising from her bow and sending Joan a sympathetic smile.

 _She speaks French? She doesn't look French._ Joan thinks, her brows furrowing in confusion. The woman seems to notice, because a frown tugs at her lips.

"You can understand me, can't you?" She asks, before turning to the box and looking it up and down. "Your translator function didn't bust, did it?" She whispers, gently running her hand over the blue wood. Joan's eyebrows furrow further.

"What are you talking about? What 'translator function'? Why are you speaking with that box?"

The woman whips around, a thrilled grin plastered on her lips.

"So you _can_ understand me?" The redhead barks a delighted laugh and pumps a fist into the air. "Ya-hoo!" The woman cheers, grinning from ear as she does some sort of funky dance that makes Joan frown and push herself further into the wall at her back. Suddenly—and far too soon for Joan's liking—the woman stops everything and intensely focuses on the maiden. "You know, I always wondered what happens when I use a word and it's translated into another language—or developing language, in this case—that doesn't have the same word or meaning as the one I just used. I mean, Shakespeare hasn't come along yet so you don't even have a word for basement. There; that look! What did I just say? 'The under part of the house'? Seriously, I want to know."

Joan stares at the woman and blinks very, very slowly.

_What in God's name is she talking about?_

"Uh—"

"Oh, wait,"—the woman interrupts, looking put-out—"I'm just going to hear the exact same thing back no matter what your version of what you hear is, aren't I? Damn TARDIS translator. I swear one of these days I'm going to figure it out, and when I do the universe better be prepared!" Her head tilts when the sounds of approaching footsteps and gruff voices meet her ears. "Oops – guess I was a little too loud. Follow me!" The woman grabs Joan's hand and pulls her towards the blue box. Joan's eyes widen – surely there isn't enough room for—

Joan's mouth drops as she steps inside the box.

 _This isn't possible. This_ can't _be possible._

Joan makes to go back outside to recheck the outside size of the box, but the woman—still holding her hand—tugs her back. Joan turns to her. The woman gives her an apologetic smile.

"Sorry – I do typically let people run around the TARDIS and then compare it to the size in here, but there's simply not enough time. Police dude!" The redhead calls, beckoning over a man who was leaning against one of the pillars of the room. The woman lets go of Joan's hand and gestures to her, as if putting her on display. "Do your thing and get out there – the guards are coming and we don't have much time." The man nods and looks Joan over. Within seconds, his appearance starts to shift and change until—

Joan pales.

It's her. That person just turned into _her_.

Before Joan can say anything, however, her double has already exited this . . . _TARDIS_ , and the woman who took her has shut and locked the door. The woman glances to the hand she used to drag Joan into the box with a frown as she jogs up to the main rounded . . . _something_ in the middle of the room.

"I'd forgotten how dirty the middle ages are." The woman murmurs, quickly wiping her hand off on a rag before moving to fiddle with the random arrangement of things on the main rounded _something_. Joan is completely out of her league in this environment.

Still frozen in her place near the door, Joan finds the courage somewhere in herself to croak:

"What was that?" Feeling her hands start to shake, she clenches them into fists and turns to the woman, forcing her voice to be stronger than before. "Where are we? What is this place? No, no – wait; first – who are you?" The redhead, continuing with her task, only bothers to spare Joan a split second glance.

"I'll explain everything in a moment. For the time being, hold on!"

Joan didn't know the woman literally meant for her to hold onto something until the whole room lurches and her ears are blasted with the same mechanical whirring she heard with this box appeared in her cell. By the time the shaking and jolting comes to a stop, Joan is on her knees with her arms wrapped around the railing of the walk-way, her entire body shaking.

The redhead skips to the stairs leading to the walk-way Joan is on and sits down on them. She smiles timidly, as if trying her best to show that she's not a threat.

Considering the mind splitting experience Joan has just gone through, she begs to differ.

"You're probably really scared and confused right now." The woman says, her voice soft and reassuring. "So I'm just going to explain a few things, and—if you feel inclined—you can jump in at any point to ask me a question or request clarification, okay?"

Joan, still shaking and gripping the railing as if her life depends on it, can't bring herself to respond. The redhead gestures to herself.

"I'm known as the Doctor. I'm a time traveller, and this box here is known as the TARDIS – which stands for Time and Relative Dimensions in Space. Yes, the inside _is_ bigger than the outside—it's a signature trait in Time Lord technology—and if you want to figure out _how much_ bigger, well, it's sort-of infinite so you would probably get lost if you tried exploring too much." The Doctor shoves her thumb over her shoulder to the place she was just working. "That thing there is the main consol – it can take me anywhere in the universe and to whatever time I please. Granted, it sometimes doesn't exactly listen to me, and sometimes it just takes off without me actually doing anything – but she's a smart cookie, so I trust her."

"What was that sound? When everything shook?" Joan interrupts, her voice strangled. She notes that her white-knuckle hold on the bars holding up the railing is making her arms go numb. The Doctor offers her a gentle smile.

"Apparently I drive with the brakes on." She chuckles and rubs her jaw. "If I really wanted to I could take the brakes off and it'd be a silent landing and takeoff—and probably be much smoother, as well—but, to be honest, I've gotten quite fond of it. Guess that's what happens after I've been hearing it for so long, huh?" The woman smiles, trying to coax Joan out of her paralyzed state. Joan has none of it. The Doctor's smile falters and she clears her throat uneasily. Her eyebrows knit and she wrings her hands together before saying:

"I'm sorry for kidnapping you. Typically I give people a choice as to whether or not they come with me, but between my fondness of driving with the brakes on and my inability to keep my voice down, I felt as though my best opinion was to just take you with me and let you decide once we were safe. It was selfish of me and I completely infringed your rights, but I've also exposed you to a world and technology in which I gave you no prior warning, and for that I can never repentant enough. If—"

"Who was that man who—"—Joan swallows—"—who turned into me?" Joan admits that she's scared shitless—in fact she has never been more terrified in her entire life—but she has to trust that her lord and saviour has put her into this situation for a reason, and that he's still protecting her. The Doctor's eyes widen in horror and she slaps herself upside the head.

"Oh _duh_ , how could I be so stupid? Of course that scared the piss out of you." The Doctor says, looking dismayed. She clears her throat in an attempt to compose herself. "For lack of a simpler explanation, that person wasn't exactly a person – it was a bot—as in robot – a mechanical humanoid without consciousness—who was controlled by people like us who shrink themselves to fit inside. Their job is to go through time and space punishing war-crime criminals, but they owe me a couple of favours and I decided to cash one.

"See, your entire life is literally fixed into time and space to the point where there was only that one tiny little window that I slipped through in order to grab you, but even then I couldn't just take you and go, because you _have_ to die on your execution date – it's simply inescapable. But!" The Doctor says as Joan goes to interrupt. Joan frowns but remains silent. The redhead continues. "But technically I was suppose to die a couple years ago in an unavoidable Fixed Point, but I got one of those bot people to take my place and I was able to get out of it unscathed, so I figured the same principle should apply here, as well." The Doctor smiles wearily. "So far it seems to be working, but if this 'ol girl here travels back here at some point with you on board, I can only assume otherwise."

The Doctor's gaze downcasts and she rubs her jaw in thought. "Of course, this all depends on you – because I told you I was going to give you a choice and I mean it. Your first option is for me to travel back to your cell and leave you to be burned at the stake. Your second option is for me to drop you off at another point in history and let you live out the rest of your days in peace. Your third option is to stick with me as my travelling companion and see anywhere you want in whatever time period you want – knowing my track record I'll probably end up dragging you into saving a couple planets or two, but your no stranger to life-on-the-line peril, right?" She laughs awkwardly. "Wow, that was presumptuous of me. Sorry."

Joan slowly loosens her grip on the railing, but still holds the support bars in a light grip as she sits back on her heels. She would be lying if she said she isn't still terrified, but something about this woman makes her . . . more willing to relax.

"Why me?" Joan asks. It seems all she's been doing since this woman showed up is ask questions and, as much as Joan hates it, she gets the feeling she won't stop having them for a very long time.

A delighted yet—to Joan's surprise—affectionate smile spreads across the Doctor's lips.

"As a child I used to spend hours talking to paintings of you. I talked to you so much that, even though you never answered—they were just paintings, after all—I started thinking of you as my best friend." A frown flickers over the woman's lips. "When I finally had enough skill to read the history of your life and time, I was absolutely devastated with how everything ended. I vowed that I would travel to your time and save you, but it was gravely explained to me that you had to live the life you did and you had to die the way you did or else the future would be drastically re-written." A strange, reminiscent look crosses over her features. "I didn't like it. I accepted it, of course—I had no choice, really—but I didn't like it.

"From then on I always lived knowing I couldn't save everybody, but I _wanted_ to save everybody, and I guess following that path eventually lead me to the answer I needed to save you." She flashes Joan an easy smile. "I would say; 'I'm sorry it took me so long to figure it out', but that doesn't really apply in this case, does it? I mean, considering it took me almost a thousand years and you're still nineteen, I—" The Doctor's brows furrow. Joan wants to comment on the 'thousand years' remark, but the redhead beats her to words. "Does that make me really creepy, or something?" She questions, looking down to examine herself. "Well, I suppose I've only had this body for a couple years, and I look pretty young. Oh!" Suddenly the Doctor's head snaps up and she points to her hair with both hands. "I'm a redhead!" She exclaims.

. . . What?

"Uh, yeah." Joan says, her tone implying just how crazy the Doctor is sounding.

One moment this woman is completely normal, and the next she's bat shit crazy. Is it always going to be like this?

The Doctor waves her off.

"No, no, no – I _mean_ that I've had practically every hair colour _except_ for red every single time I regenerated, even though I've always wanted it. By the end I was starting to lose hope—because it would really suck if I went through all thirteen of my regenerated bodies without ever getting red hair—but it all worked out in the end. Well, technically I _did_ go through all thirteen of them—considering this is my fourteenth—but that's not really the point of the— are you okay?"

Joan has long since stopped trying to understand anything spewing out the Doctor's mouth, and has opted to nursing the headache now pulsing in her skull instead.

"Fine." Joan grits, squeezing her eyes shut and rubbing her temples roughly. "Just . . . just stop talking." Joan thinks she hears the Doctor mutter something about 'information overload', but otherwise keeps to Joan's request and remains silent.

Who apparently can't stand silence.

After only a handful of seconds, Joan hears:

"Okay, so let's hold back on your decision – you have all the time in the world, after all." The redhead chuckles at her own joke, but upon seeing that Joan is far from amused, clears her throat gently. "I have clean clothes and towels you can use if you want to take a bath."

 _A bath? An_ actual _bath?_

Joan slowly raises her head from her hand and gives the Doctor a double take.

She certainly seems clean and well groomed enough to have an adequate rank for such a luxury.

"If your offering." Joan says slowly, keeping a keen eye on the woman in an attempt to spot any lies. The woman chuckles gently and gives Joan a lazy smile.

"Offering? I must say I insist." She hesitates. "Not that I'm saying that your grimy. Or that you smell bad. Well, you were locked in that cell for who knows how long so technically—" The Doctor cuts herself off with a frown and, after a beat, shoves a thumb over her shoulder. "Why don't I just bring you to the wardrobe so you can pick out something you like?

*

The Doctor gave Joan a week before she expected an answer.

To be fair though, it wasn't only for the benefit of the platinum blond, but also for the redhead – because Joan is definitely _not_ what the Time Lord was expecting. The Doctor was prepared for the terror and shock that accompanies dragging a fifteenth century woman into technology galore hub that is the TARDIS, she was prepared for the questions, the confusion and even the possible distain she might receive. The one thing she wasn't prepared for, however—no matter how glaringly obvious it should have been—is Joan's heavily engrained religious beliefs.

Considering Joan did everything in the name of God, the Doctor really shouldn't have been as surprised as she had been.

Goes to show you how oblivious the redhead is.

So while the Doctor answered all of Joan's questions and showed her around to different rooms, it was as much a learning experience for the Time Lord as it was for the medieval woman. It wasn't all bad, though – Joan has grown past her fear enough to laugh at some of the redhead's stupid jokes, and the redhead finds some of Joan's rants obscenely hilarious. Like that one on the second day where the Doctor said Joan could shower or bathe every day if she wanted, and Joan went off about not being worthy enough and wasting perfectly good drinking water. It was certainly a challenge not to laugh when the redhead had to dispute Joan's logic.

To the Doctor's surprise, the only reason she didn't lose the argument was by saying; 'yeah, well, if you're staying on my ship I'd very much prefer if you did. I have a sensitive nose.'

That added, 'stubbornness to the max' to the list of things the Time Lord was unprepared for.

All things considered, though, the two have been making wonderful progress over the past seven days. It's certainly more than the Doctor could have ever hoped for, even if everything is still in the beginning stages of trusting each other enough to test the waters of deeper issues.

The problem is that the Doctor doesn't know if it's enough for Joan to choose life instead of death, and she doesn't have any more time to persuade her.

The Doctor takes a gentle steadying breath, her hands nervously twisting together as she stands outside Joan's door., trying to work up the courage to knock.

_Ever since I was a child I've been wanting to save her, but what if—even after all this—I'm still left incapable of doing that? What if Joan's will believes that history should be as it was and demands to go back? Her life is a Fixed Point, so does that make her way of thinking a fixed point, too? Because she was given the chance to live once before and she didn't take it. Does this mean a part of her soul yearns for her life to end as 'God' intended? Would that mean that, if I don't take her back, that she'd slowly become a shell of the woman she once was because she desires something I refuse to give her?_

Hissing and rubbing her temples, the Doctor raises her free hand and knocks on the door.

There are far too many variables, and she'd kill her brain trying to think of all of them when all she has to do is _ask_.

By some miracle, Joan opens the door before the Doctor can fall back into the chaos of her own thoughts. Joan gives the elder a languid smile, though the redhead can see the strain in it.

"Hello Doctor. Something I can help you with?"

Joan has decided to keep with a more old-fashioned type clothes, and wears a pair of black trousers, an off-white tunic and a noticeable absence of socks and shoes. Her hair is in her regular braid but, without the dirt and sweat to keep her bangs slicked back, they fall in framing strands on either side of her face. The Time Lord had offered the girl hair gel to get back the wind-blown look, but Joan had refused. One too many changes for Joan to wrap her head around all at once, the Doctor presumes.

The redhead forces an apprehensive smile. "Yes, there is. Can I come in?" Joan frowns, but steps aside none the less and opens the door a little wider. The Doctor nods and steps inside, nervously tapping her hands against her thighs as she looks around the room absently – to make it look like she's doing something to give her more time.

Ironic that she scrambling for the one thing she should be in control of.

After a solid minute, Joan clears her throat.

"So, why are yo—"

"Don't leave me." The Doctor blurts, whirling on the girl. Her eyes widen in time with Joan's and she slaps her hand over her mouth. "Wait, no – that's not— I didn't mean— that's not what I came here for." Joan's eyebrows furrow, but she otherwise says nothing. The redhead awkwardly clears her throat. "It's been a week." She says, forcing a weak laugh. "So I came to ask if you've made your decision. If you haven't, that's cool too – I'd be more than happy to wait another week or two for you to make up your mind. I mean, this is a lot to take in, and—" Joan holds up her hand for the Doctor to stop, and her mouth promptly snaps shut.

"I've made my decision." Joan says. The redhead's heart plummets into her stomach.

"Oh." Is all the Time Lord is able to choke. Joan nods softly.

"My decision . . ." Joan pauses. The Doctor's breath catches in her throat, her heart hammering in her chest as she painfully waits for— "is that I don't want to make a decision."

One second. Two seconds.

"Wait, what?" The redhead asks, frowning. Joan shrugs.

"I've been asking for answers ever since I got here, but I haven't been given any. At first I thought it was because God abandoned me, but now I'm thinking . . . what if it's his way of saying that I've done everything I can for him? I mean, you told me yourself that, had you not come along, that I would have been burnt at the stake without doing anything else worth noting. At first I took that as a sign that I had to go back and complete what I started, but then you explained that I never really said or did anything after being condemned, so a likeness of me had just as much power as the real me so long as the people believe that I was the one burning.

"So I've been thinking about if it was my duty to burn as history intends, or if God was rewarding me for my service by giving me a way out. I tried asking which one was correct, but he was painfully silent. This lead me to believe that God is waiting for me to make my own choice – if I want to go back to tie everything together in a neat little bow, or if I want to continue living and helping others and I . . ." Joan falters, a frown tugging at her lips. "I was fighting against my heart and my sense of duty, when all I really want to do is let everything play out and see where it leads me." Joan locks eyes with the Doctor.

"I don't want to make a choice that's the be-all, end-all." She continues, her voice firm and strong. "I want to travel with you to see what you do and see if I'm any good at it or if I'll be any help, but I still want the option of you bringing me back to my cell or dropping me off someplace to simply live. I want to be able to choose whenever I want to choose. Is that alright?"

A smile slowly spreads over the Doctor's lips. "That's more than okay." She breathes, a relieved air taking over her as tears mist her eyes and her heart sours in her chest. "That's more than okay." She repeats, her voice barely above a whisper. Chuckling softly, the Doctor wipes her eyes. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to get all emotional on you – I was just so scared that you'd immediately want your death that I—" The Doctor pauses when she feels a hand lightly brush her forearm, and she looks up, lightly meeting the younger's eyes. Joan smiles gently.

"You gave me the chance that I never would have otherwise had, and all because you chose to speak to a painting of _my_ likeness instead of all the hundreds of others you could have chosen instead. So thank you, Doctor. I owe you my life."

The redhead has no hope of suppressing the tears from burning in her eyes in time. With a very unladylike snuffle, the Doctor pulls Joan into a crushing hug and buries her face into the taller girl's neck. She feels Joan hesitate a moment before gently wrapping her arms around the elder. The Doctor hiccups and chokes a laugh amidst a sob.

"Thank you." She says, tightening her already vice-like grip. "Thank you so much – you have no idea how much this means to me." Joan chuckles softly.

"I think I'm getting a pretty good idea." She says, her tone soothing. The redhead finds herself relaxing into the younger woman's grip. After a long, comfortable silence in each other's arms, the Time Lord chuckles softly.

"I think I got snot all over your tunic." She says. Joan laughs.

"I can assure you that I've had to endure worse filth."

The Doctor hums gently, her head still buried into the crook of Joan's neck. "Still, though – it's nice to be clean."

"Yes." Joan says, her tone immediately perking. "I have to admit that always having access to cleanliness is one of the best perks of the TARDIS." The Doctor snorts and pulls back, barking a laugh.

"Hey now – this old girl has a lot of other neat tricks up her sleeve."

Joan smirks. "Like you?" The Doctor pulls a phony frown.

"You calling me old?" She asks, playful accusation in her tone. Joan nods.

"Aye. Though I must admit you're pretty sprightly for an ancient."

The redhead's jaw drops. "Ex _cuse_ me, Joan, but—" the Time Lord pauses, a thought striking her. It was one that she's contemplated, but hasn't thought about bringing up before, lest she get her hopes up before the maiden decided what she wanted to do. "I need to change your name." The Doctor says. Joan looks vaguely offended, so the redhead continues with; "Not that I don't like your name because I do – it's a very wonderful name, but, well, we can't go around saying your Joan d'Arc, now can we?" Joan's eyebrows furrow in confusion.

"But I _am_ —"

"Technically yes,"—the Doctor interjects—"but you're also technically suppose to be dead, or not even born yet. If you weren't such a prominent figure in history it really wouldn't have mattered all that much but, as it stands, you are very well known. This means that we can't give your name any weight in the past before your era comes, and too many people would be able to put two and two together in the future." The redhead nervously fiddles with the fabric of her pants. "But you did say yourself that this is something of a new beginning – a new start, so why not celebrate that with a new name?

"You never forget who you were before—I certainly never did after each regeneration—but you'll know that 'Joan' refers to your old life – the life you served God for France, and that your new name will represent your new life – the life that you live for you." The Time Lord shifts and rubs the back of her neck. "I was personally going for 'Elsa Arendelle', but you can choose something else if you don't like it."

One second. Two seconds. Three seconds.

Joan stares at the Doctor for a long moment before nodding slowly. "Okay." She says, immersed in thought. "I'll take the name Elsa, if you take a name for me." The Doctor frowns.

"Why?"

Joan rubs her jaw thoughtfully. "When the shock of all this wore off and I finally asked you what your real name was, you told me it was connected to a time in your life that you'd rather keep buried." She locks eyes with the Time Lord. "You sacrificed your right to have a name because, somewhere inside, you believed you didn't deserve to have one. Instead you call yourself by a title, hoping beyond all hope that people will see you as the healer that title represents instead of judge you by whatever you did to make you throw away your name." The Doctor's eyes widen and her mouth falls slack. Joan's eyes soften. "Whoever you were, I can tell that you aren't that person anymore.

"So why can't you give yourself the second chance that you fight for so many other people to have? You might think that you got your second beginning as 'the Doctor' and, in a way, I suppose you have – but you weren't living for the sake of a second beginning – you were living in a desperate attempt to appease your past. So even though you weren't living with people calling you by the name you wanted to forget, you were still living in its shadow." Joan's eyes bore so intensely into the Doctor's soul that she feels sweat forming on her forehead, and just when she thinks the maiden is going in for the kill—

Joan suddenly shrugs and leans against the desk behind her.

"Anna." She says. The Time Lord frowns.

"What?"

Joan glances up to her.

"Your new name." She states frankly, with no room for discussion. "I will continue calling you the Doctor until you're ready to take it,"—she adds, much to the Doctor's relief—"but when you are, all you have to do is correct me – and then I'll know."

The redhead stares at Joan with a undecided look crossing over her features. She frowns.

"Why Anna?" She asks. She doesn't have an issue with the name, but it fits so snugly in her heart that she wonders how Joan came up with it. Joan shrugs.

"I felt right." She says, as if that makes all the sense in the world.

Yet, oddly enough, it does.

The Doctor nods ever so slowly. "Okay." She says. Her eyebrows knit together. "So when you call me 'Doctor' and I eventually correct it by saying 'Anna', you'll know that I've given myself a second chance?" She asks. Joan smiles, her eyes crinkling in the corners.

"Yes." She says. The Time Lord thinks this over for a moment. As much as she wants to appease Joan by outright taking the name now, the redhead knows that she's not ready – she has over a thousand years of memories to sift through and forgive, after all.

The Doctor nods. "I'll let you know, then." She relents, glancing up to meet the younger woman's eyes. Joan nods her approval. The Doctor rubs the back of her neck. "Sooo, I should start calling you Elsa, huh?" Joan smiles.

"Yeah, looks like it." Joan says, pushing off from the desk. "So what now, Doctor?" She asks, raising an eyebrow. The first challenge. The redhead ignores it and grins.

"Well, we have all of time and space to choose from – so why don't you tell me what you want to see?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay everyone – this was the final sha-bang. I’m going to be posting one last thing onto _I Don’t Knock – I Kick the Door Down_ and then I’m going dark. I will still answer PM’s and comments, but I’ll no longer be posting anything. For those of you who like to re-read stories, don’t worry – I won’t be pulling my work down.
> 
> Oh, and one of you expressed to me your desire to see one of my one-shot worlds made into a series. Obviously I won’t be doing it, but if any of you have the urge to pick up one of these ideas feel free to contact me about it (mainly it’s just so I know who’s doing it and so I can link you in my profile).
> 
> Thank you all for taking the time to read my work - it’s been a pleasure writing for all of you.


	6. Arms Dealer and Slave, Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Arms Dealer Elsa and Slave Anna was first requested to be turned into a series by Nettlebane. Almost two months later, I got an PM from idwalkthroughhell4u, in which we had extensive conversations over them wanting me to expand it and me saying I didn't have the time. In the end, I promised this user a Part 2 if they could throw enough ideas at me to kick-start my brain into coming up with an outline. Eventually I was able to piece some things together and va-va-voom – you have this.
> 
> This is for Nettlebane, idwalkthroughhell4u and everyone else who has expressed their love for my writing.
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> PS. I highly suggest all of you go back and read Part 1 to either refresh your memory or because you haven't read it yet.

" **Pre-story** ": Four months have passed since the ending of Part 1. Elsa and Anna have become very close friends during that time, and Anna has worked her way to being Elsa's right hand and most trusted adviser. Within the household Anna has grown to be more of a second leader and has practically took over managing half of Elsa's business, but she is still officially a slave in the eyes of the law and conducts herself in a befitting manner in public eye.

Character tags added: Hans and King of Arendelle.

* * *

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine."

"Are you _sure_ you're fine?"

"Anna, leave it alone."

Anna barely bites back the urge to snort, but a smile accidently twitches onto her lips. "You're totally hung over, aren't you?" She asks. Elsa glares.

"Yes, and I wonder who's fault that is."

"Certainly not mine." Anna chortles.

" _You_ were the one in charge of getting me drinks. _You_ were the one who kept grabbing the punch spiked with an absurd amount of alcohol. _You were the one who got me wasted_." Elsa snarls, burying her face in her pillow to hide away from the light streaming in from the window.

"Considering I was busy trying to hide the fact that I was doing business with some of the scum you call customers without attracting attention to myself, I blame it on you. I told you that you should have brought Kai or Gerta with you to handle waiting on you, but nooo you thought it'd be a grand plan for me to do both."

"I was only allowed to bring one slave and you're the only one I have that also controls part of my business. I brought you so I could cover double the ground." Elsa groans, throwing her blankets over her head and rolling into a tight cocoon.

Anna raises an eyebrow. "Then you could have at least not made me run around so damn much."

"Please let me die in peace."

"I swear to God, Elsa – if you don't get up I'm going to get Marshmallow to throw a tub of ice water on you."

A long, pitiful whine imitates from under the covers, and Anna can't help but smile. It feels like a life time ago that she was kicked from her orphanage and into the package deal that landed her in Elsa's care, yet it feels ever longer since her days of fearing this hissing ball of fur. These past few months have been a blessing, and she feels freer than she was when she actually was free.

With an affectionate smile, Anna sits on the edge of the bed and rubs circles on Elsa's back through the covers. The arms dealer's pathetic whine instantly wilts into a sound very similar to a purr. Anna has to bite her lip to keep from doubling over in hysterics.

How she ever feared the platinum blond is a mystery beyond all comprehension.

There's a knock on the door.

"Is our dear lovely master awake yet?" Gerta asks, her voice muffled by the wood. Elsa lets out a disgruntled snort. Anna cracks a grin.

"Unless you count hiding away under the covers and groaning like an old crone on their deathbed than no – she is not awake yet."

"Anna." Elsa scolds in a poor attempt to warn the girl to keep her tongue. The redhead's grin grows ever wider. As if the big softy could ever do anything to enforce her warning.

"Do you want me to get Marshall in there with a bucket of ice water?" Gerta asks.

"What is wrong with you people?" Elsa screeches, before instantly moaning in pain. Anna barks a laugh, which makes Elsa retreat further into her nest of sheets.

"I think I'll be fine without Marshmallow's assistance, but thanks for offering." Anna calls.

"Alright, but don't come complaining to me later if your method doesn't work out the way you plan." Gerta says. Anna listens to the plump woman's retreating footsteps for a moment before turning her attention back to her owner.

Placing her hand on the other side of the lump, Anna leans down until her forehead rests on what she presumes is Elsa's shoulder. Elsa's movements still.

"You're going to have to get up eventually." Anna murmurs.

Elsa is quiet for the longest time, before—with a 'you beat me' sigh—she pokes the top half of her face out of the blankets to give Anna the look of an injured puppy. Instead of getting her desired effect, however—or maybe in spite of it—Anna cracks a grin and ruffles the arms dealer's hair.

"Aw, aren't you adorable?"

Elsa tries her best to glare at the redhead without closing her eyes against the light, but the beautiful sight of Anna's endearing smile melts the older woman's heart. Not wanting to betray herself, Elsa averts her eyes to the window. She winces and a frown tugs heavily on her lips. Despite nearly killing her aching eyeballs, it does prevent the younger woman from seeing the affection pooling on her face.

Just when she thinks her eyes can't take anymore, a soft hand rests itself over them.

"I wouldn't do that until you recover a little more – it won't start hurting any less until you get some food and water into you." Anna says, her voice low and caring. Elsa is suddenly glad the bottom half of her face is still covered; it prevents the redhead from seeing the warm smile that creeps over her lips at the thoughtful gesture. She must still feel the hung over woman's cheeks raise from the action, however, because Elsa can hear the smile in the younger woman's voice as she says; "I'm going to shut the blinds and go tell Gerta to start placing your breakfast at the table."

With that, Anna gets up, shuts the blinds and goes for the door. Before she leaves, she turns back to Elsa and says:

"But if you seriously aren't up in fifteen minutes, I really am going to soak you in freezing water."

* * *

"You never told me who we had to meet today, you know."

Elsa nods absently, her eyes flickering around and picking up the smallest details in this posh neighbourhood. "I know." She says, the beginning of a frown tugging at her lips. The same one she gets when she's absorbed in her thoughts or mulling over a complicated problem.

Part of her realises how obvious she's being. Part of her knows that her actions betray her tense shoulders and worried mind. That part of her tells her to tune it down. The rest of her doesn't give enough of a shit to listen.

She didn't tell Anna who her customer is because she's worried that the younger woman will recognize them and fly into a rage. A small, hidden part of her, however, worries that Anna _won't_ recognize them; _won't_ recognize the house; _won't_ recognize the name.

Considering Anna doesn't seem to be familiar with the neighbourhood, her latter fear might be more plausible than she'd hoped.

The platinum blond can see Anna frown out of the corner of her eye.

If Elsa doesn't change the topic before Anna can open her mouth and question her behaviour, the arms dealer won't have a choice but to spill everything.

Then again, why hasn't she already?

It all started a week or two after Elsa had her; 'I'm a good person, so don't fear me' talk with the slave; although it's hard to imagine the woman as merely a slave upon looking back now. Anyway, it was a late night and Anna had chosen to stay up with her master to tend to her and keep her company while she stayed up doing work. For the most part Elsa just ignored the other woman, but eventually her work began to frustrate her and give her a headache. Anna, ever the one to keep the mood light, started making small talk. Elsa humoured the girl with a few nods and hums, but her attention was snagged when she heard 'Arendale'.

Arendale is an off-branch family of the Arendelle royal line; they're second in line for the throne if anything were ever to come of the main family or their children.

Only the Arendales are dead. They died off almost fifteen years ago.

Anna would have only been four or five at the time of their death, so how did she know them?

Being the person she is, Elsa halted Anna mid-rant without explanation and asked; "What about the Arendales?"

Anna had shrugged and said something along the lines of; "That's how I remember how old I am. I know I was four and a half around the time the Arendales were slaughtered—because that's about the time I was put in the orphanage—so I just keep track of how many years have passed since then and add four on top of it."

She kept going on, but Elsa had stopped listening. Something wasn't right about that information, but she couldn't put her finger on why. She spent the next week researching, and her blood ran cold at what she found.

The Arendales consisted of a mother, father and a four year old daughter on the year of their demise. All were presumed dead, even though the child's body was never found.

She dug around some more and found out that the Sutherlands—an off-branch household of the Southern Isles royal family—took over the Arendale estate and resources and, in doing so, became the back-up inheritors for both the Southern Isles and Arendelle. If that doesn't scream foul play, Elsa isn't sure what does.

In the months following, Elsa has been twisting her influence in a way that'd force the Sutherlands to beckon her for help. It worked. It's made Arendelle and the Southern Isles teeter on the edge of declaring war on each other and they barely hang in a delicate balance, but it worked.

Now the Sutherlands need arms to protect themselves and to fight for the side that pays the highest.

Elsa figures the family is merely itching to kill off one of the families so they can own a throne.

The Sutherland family—consisting of the parents and thirteen sons—is spread across the continents, all probably trying to slither their way up the social latter in their own way. Now, while a lot of them will be returning with drool running down their chin at the news of this conflict, currently there is only one Sutherland present at the estate – Hans.

Hans is the youngest of the family, not much older than Anna, and he has not seen just how nasty the world can get. Don't get her wrong, Elsa's aware of how intelligent the man is – but knowing how to talk circles around a court and getting involved with an arms dealer who provides weapons for over three kingdoms, thirty cities and everything in between is another thing altogether.

Elsa half hopes the man is stupid enough to cross her.

Now, why Elsa hasn't told Anna any of this is a mystery. She's been wanting to, but she got cold feet whenever she tried to bring it up. Oddly enough, she's not sure whether she's more scared of it sparking Anna's memory or it not doing anything at all.

"Elsa?" Anna asks tentatively, a frown carved onto her lips.

Blinking out of her stupor, Elsa glances to Anna. By the look on her face, the blond determines that she'd been glaring at everything in their path unconsciously. Elsa forces a smile—although it turns out as more of a grimace—and says; "I'm fine."

She's far from fine and Anna knows that, but—after a hesitation—the younger woman just nods, accepting it.

Although she's happy she doesn't have to answer, a bitterness overcomes her at Anna adopting her submissive slave role. Sure, that was the deal – do whatever you want so long as you behave appropriately in public, but Elsa hates it more and more as time goes on.

Maybe that's why she's so desperate to restore Anna's rightful position in society.

That translates into actually telling the girl—eventually—and praying she remembers, right?

Looking down the street and seeing how close they are to their destination, Elsa finally gets the courage to speak up and tell the truth. Not the whole truth, but a significant chunk of it.

"We're going to be meeting with Hans Sutherland at the old Arendale estate." Elsa admits. "He and his family are preparing for war because of the turmoil between Arendelle and the Southern Isles. His family has claims to both thrones because of the Arendale family's passing, and they want to have one of them for themselves."

Anna's eyebrows furrow in confusion. "I don't understand – what purpose does this information serve in selling them arms?"

"That's just the thing,"—Elsa says, lowing her voice—"I'm not going to be selling them anything." Anna's eyes widen in surprise, but Elsa doesn't give her a chance to respond. "The truth is that the conflict between the two kingdoms is my doing and I'm carefully controlling them through promises of weapons and threats of not delivering; since I'm the only one they can do business with without instigating a brutal retaliation from me, I've got them locked into a carefully designed stalemate."

"This isn't your usual MO." Anna says slowly, suspicion working its way into her features.

"I know." Elsa allows. "It was the only way that I could get the Sutherlands to contact me for weapons. The family is so spread out, see, that there are those who are outside of my range of tight control, so they normally get weapons elsewhere and ship them in hiding or in such small amounts that they fly under my radar. With war brewing, however, I'm the only one they can contact to get the amount of weapons they require without receiving the weight of my wraith."

Anna nods carefully, thoughtfully. "Do you have a personal vendetta against the family?"

"I never used to." Elsa admits, frowning. "I've come across information recently, however, that has drastically changed my opinion of them. Don't get me wrong, I was never overly found of them to begin with—sneaking in weapons I don't control does tend to fester harsh feelings—but I never wanted to rip them from their pedestal and shove their faces into the ground with the heel of my boot before."

Anna's face contorts in confusion, but Elsa doesn't let her get too far into analyzing the situation.

"I don't have time to explain." Elsa whispers as they turn into the long drive of the former Arendale mansion. "The point is that they did something to the Arendales while they were still alive and I either need to know what they did or I need proof that they enacted in foul play. So while I distract Hans, I need you to sneak around and try to find something that can act as solid evidence. I first and foremost want you looking in the most abandoned areas and rooms before you go into places that there's more likelihood of someone walking in on you."

"Why would they hide information like that in a place that isn't guarded? That—"

Running out of time, Elsa cuts Anna off with; "The probability of there being any documents to begin with are low. If there were any, then they'd of probably been destroyed years ago. I need you to look for things that they would have overlooked; paintings, letters, journals – anything you can get your hands on. Oh, and Anna . . ." Elsa gives the younger woman a look that makes her falter in her step.

"No matter what your first impression is of Hans,"—Elsa starts, her voice low with warning—"remember that he was raised with the same mentality of his parents and older siblings. The same ones who probably slaughtered the Arendales."

Anna pales considerably.

Before she has a chance to answer, however, Elsa knocks on the door.

A servant is quick to open the door and lead them to the waiting area. Elsa is supplied with tea and some small snacks while Anna has to stand at attention beside her master's chair, like waiting slaves are suppose to.

Although Elsa is on time, they have to wait a half an hour before their gracious host actually comes out to meet them – it's a tactic used to enforce who's the dominant party. Already use to these sleazy tactics, however, Hans will find himself disappointed by Elsa's lack of reaction.

"Sorry for my untimely behaviour." Hans says as he strides into the room, a practiced smile easing into place. "I would have been out sooner, but I had some important matters to attend to."

Elsa shrugs, deciding not to stand as a way of showing respect. "Business is business." She says, her bored nature easily conveying through her words. Crossing her right ankle over her left knee, she gestures to the little snacks spread out on the table in front of her. "Want some?"

Hans's smile falters just enough for Elsa to catch it, and she internally congratulates herself.

Trying to enforce his dominance in a different way, the man slowly scans Elsa's apparel with a look of displeasure.

"Is it really appropriate for a woman such as yourself to be dressed in such a manner?" He asks, before glancing over at Anna. "It seems even your slave has out classed you."

Elsa raises an eyebrow.

Elsa wears snuggly tailored black breeches, polished leather boots and a fancy royal blue tunic covered by a pristine black jacket with polished gold buttons and royal blue trim. Her hair is in its regular braid with her bangs windblown back.

Anna, on the other hand, wears an amazingly tailored green summer dress with baby blue designs and royal blue trimming. Her hair is done up in a very intricate bun. If not for the girl's current standing position and submissive behaviour and mannerisms telling of a slave, no one would ever know the difference between her and nobility. Which is what Elsa is counting on.

"You mean the fact that my servant is dressed to her gender specifications in a pleasurable way to the man's eye and I am dressed in a fashion that is imposing and threatening?" Elsa asks. Shaking her head, she stands and faces Hans in a way that implies she's getting ready to leave. "I understand that you're some hotshot in the political world, but I am the ultimate power in the underworld.

"If you think you're able to go on without me like you have, then go ahead. Just please take note that I know you've sneaking in the very supplies I operate in under my nose, and I know you'll be doing that ever more if you don't make a deal with me. If that case arises I can lock off the dock. Confiscate your packages or packages going to you. Quarantine your estate. I can even go as far as leaving mangled bodies on your doorstep of people who serve you. If you want to pretend you're bigger than me than go ahead, but never—and I mean _never_ —forget who truly has the power in this relationship. Do you understand?"

Hans's plastic smile has long since fled his features, replaced instead by a dark glower and a twitching sneer.

It's then Elsa knows that Hans has never dealt outside the political world – his expression says it all. It tells her that he has long since thought that he was better than the rest of his family—who no doubt all deal with the darkness of Elsa's world—and sought to only deal with one side of the equation. The only reason he's dealing with Elsa at all is probably because he's the only one in the estate and no one else would have been able to get back in time to bargain with her.

"You don't have to like me." Elsa says, her voice steady and calm. "You don't even have to like what I do. You do need understand, however, that I control every weapon and blacksmith within my territory which, trust me, is much bigger than you could ever hope to imagine. So, really, your only two options are to either cooperate with me or fight without weapons. The choice is yours."

Even though it's not much of a choice—especially considering what stake the Sutherlands have on this war—Hans seems to really consider it.

After a long, painfully redundant amount of time, Hans nods.

"Fine." He bites, turning on his heel. "Follow me."

Following the man at a slower pace, Elsa calls over her shoulder; "Anna, please leave me alone. But try, I do beg of you – make yourself useful to someone."

* * *

"'Make yourself useful to someone'." Anna mocks, digging her way through the mansion's dusty old attic nearly half an hour later. "I agreed to help you search for shit— well, technically you volunteered me, but _still_ – I did _not_ sign up for clogging up my lungs with fucking old skin cells."

Anna had been searching room after room in an abandoned looking wing of the mansion for nearly twenty minutes when she came across a closed-off set of stairs. Of course the first thing Anna did when she came across these stairs that obviously no one uses was to climb them and figure out what the lack of fuss was about.

She really, really should have just walked passed them.

Tripping over a box—that was invisible with all dust and scarce lighting—Anna quickly grabs onto anything she can to keep her upright.

What she manages is grabbing a dusty old blanket that comes down with her.

So not only does she face-plant into thirty fucking centimeters of dust, about the same amount decides to fall on top of her.

Coming up coughing and sputtering and desperately swatting dust from her eyes, Anna glares at the blanket and then to the stupid box she tripped over.

Muttering promises of vengeance under her breath, Anna pushes to her feet and does her best to swipe the dust off her. Only succeeding in stirring up a cloud of cough-inducing filth, Anna kneels and decides to see exactly what unfortunate pile of shit got her into this mess.

She rifles through the ledgers and books for a good five minutes before she comes across something worth noting. By itself it doesn't really mean much and, to be honest, Anna can't make much sense out of it – but she labels it as important and stands up with it nonetheless.

Having just about enough with the crammed, dirty place, Anna turns heel—

When her eye catches something.

From the lack of any notable amount of dust, Anna can only assume that this had once been covered by the blanket that had tried to smother her during her fall.

The sense of dreadful familiarity that fills her at the sight is almost enough to make her puke.

With a note of hesitancy, she reads the plaque at the bottom.

It says; 'Arendale Family Portrait'.

She'd heard about the story so many times as a child that she practically has it memorized. She remembers how the two parents were found dead but the child had disappeared and was never seen again. Anna had always fantasized that that child was her, because she was put into the orphanage care so close to the incident.

Upon looking at the young, redheaded child in the photo who looks oh so eerily similar to her, Anna has the sickening feeling that she might have been right.

Then it clicks.

Elsa's odd behaviour over the past few months and her words before entering the house.

Elsa wants to destroy the Sutherlands because she believes they killed Anna's family and tossed her away. All she needed was evidence.

The question that's really bugging Anna is why. _Why_ would Elsa go through all this trouble for her? There were plenty of other ways she could have handled this, but she chose to do something completely out of character and drastic. She knows that the arms dealer has been warming up to her lately and has become notably fond of her, but not fond enough to go this far.

She's missing something – she _knows_ she's missing something, but for one frightening moment, Anna doesn't care. She just found out that it is very likely that the Sutherlands killed her parents or hired someone else to, and then just left her to rot. Then Elsa found out, and didn't even tell her when she made Anna look for evidence that could possibly lead to the girl finally knowing where she came from.

Her rational mind tells her that the Sutherlands would have killed her, so—logically—she had to of escaped somehow. Her rational side also tells her that Elsa was trying to protect her from getting her hope worked up for nothing, but nothing could quell the fiery hatred that swells in her stomach for the pair of them.

With her chest rising and falling in angry huffs, Anna storms out of the room, hell bent for Hans's office.

* * *

Elsa sighs. "Do you take me for a fool, Hans?" She asks, once again curbing any progress the two could have been making.

Elsa has been stalling and talking in circles for almost forty-five minutes. Honestly she thought it would have been harder than it this, but Hans—only being used to dealing with politicians—is out of his league and making wagers for a completely different ballpark. He was definitely trying, but he was undoubtedly stupid in the business affairs of the underworld.

"You deal with kingdoms!" Hans finally grinds out, frustration getting the better of him. "If you deal with kingdoms you have to work in legitimate business ventures or else they would have ousted you by now! Why, for the life of you, can't you extend the same courtesy to me?"

"Firstly, I _don't_ work in legitimate business with the crown. Any crown. The fact is that they _have_ to deal with me because I control every weapon and blacksmith within their borders. They've tried getting rid of me,"—Elsa says, shrugging—"but it's hard to do that to someone who can squeeze the life out of your economy without so much as raising a hand. Don't get me wrong – it'd be nice to have official documentation proving what is already true and everyone already knows, but it's hardly a necessity. As long as I'm in control, I don't really care what official scribbles say."

Hans grinds his teeth together. Elsa, wanting to aggravate him more, merely raises an eyebrow.

"I think it would be beneficial for me to wait until another member of your family can arrange to see me, seeing as you haven't an inkling of the water you're treading in." She says, as if to a child.

"No!" Hans shouts, slamming his hand down on his desk. "I'm going to make this deal, and you're going to be walking out of here with an order of weapons. Do you understand me?"

Elsa smirks. She has him now.

She opens her mouth to make the kill—

Only to be interrupted by the large double doors of the study flying open.

Whirling in her chair, Elsa watches in perplexed horror as Anna—covered in so much dust she's practically gray—stomps into the room, slams a random ledger on the desk and points an accusing finger at the man behind it.

"Your family slaughtered my parents!" She accuses. Elsa's eyes bulge.

While she's happy Anna remembers, the why she went about exposing it was less than satisfactory. Glancing at the ledger—and knowing better than to put herself in Anna's line of fire—Elsa picks it up and starts skimming through it. Is this what Anna found to make her realise the truth?

"What is the meaning of this?" Hans asks, raising his voice in indignation. He turns his attention to the preoccupied arms dealer. "Tell your slave to bite her tongue!"

"Hey, I'm right here you slimy motherfucker!" Anna barks, her teeth bared in a vicious snarl.

"I could have you hung for speaking to me this way!" Hans shouts, spittle flying from his mouth.

"Unless you want Elsa to ruin your family, drain your resources and torture you and your family to death, I think it'd be a pretty fucking stupid plan." Anna growls, her bloodshot eyes narrowing in unadulterated loathing.

Unseen by both of them, Elsa—her eyes still fixated on the ledger in her hand—slowly stands with mixed feelings warring across her face.

"You can't tell me what to do, you filthy slave." Hans snarls, his figurative hackles raising.

"You killed the Arendales!" Anna shouts. She barely registers the look of fearful shock that flashes over the man's face as she continues with; "So, considering I should be in the seat your dirty fucking ass has been sitting in for God knows how many years, I think I have more right than anyone to tell you what to do!"

"Ledgers don't lie." Elsa murmurs, breaking the hateful exchange. Anna glares at her.

"This is not the fucking time to be lecturing us about numbers." She spits.

Elsa looks up from the account book and turns it to Anna, pointing out a specific section. "Look at that and tell me what you see."

Anna throws up her hands in aspiration. "Numbers! Letters and numbers!"

"Look at it carefully." Elsa says in a slow, calming voice. Anna grits her teeth to keep from biting back a response, and grudgingly looks at the numbers.

"Would you care to tell me what all this is about?" Hans asks, irritation grating his tone in an unflattering way.

"Shh." Elsa scolds, her eyes trained on Anna's expressions, waiting for realization.

Realization never really hits the girl, but a look of strange puzzlement takes over her features.

"It doesn't balance." She says, frowning and taking the ledger into her hands. "I mean it balances – the final number _is_ correct, but the numbers above have been altered in a way that doesn't make any sense. This one here, for example – why would anyone in their right mind pay a thousand slivers for a half a dozen plain wooden chests? Why would the Arendales even _want_ six plain ass wooden chests to begin with? And this – there's no way they bought that many precious stones for only twenty silvers."

"Look at the sellers name that reoccurs the most." Elsa says, gently prodding the younger woman in the right direction.

Anna reads over the names and frowns when she finds the one that shows up more frequently than the rest. "TGS. Who the hell is TGS?"

Well, that would explain why the redhead didn't understand the significance.

Crossing her arms over her chest, Elsa nods her head towards Hans. "They're his father's initials. If you keep flipping through the pages you'll find there are a lot of transactions between them and that only those numbers involving TGS have been changed. If you start thinking about it as a message, you can start to understand what your father is trying to say based on the product and the altered amount. I can't quite say what it is without extensive examination, but even an idiot can tell that it was prompted by something hostile being aimed at them from the Sutherlands."

Hans barks a bitter, but superior laugh. "You have no concrete proof! Throwing false accusations around will get you nowhere."

Anna glowers at the man. "I think the portrait of a four year old me in the attic and your expression when I accused your family of my parents murder was enough."

Elsa raises her hand to halt the two from getting into another squabble. "Hans." She says slowly, grabbing his attention. "I have absolutely no intention of going to the authorities with this. In fact, I don't plan on using any legal means whatsoever except for getting a judge to formally recognize Anna as the Arendales only child. In fact, I don't even plan on leaving this house. You haven't noticed, but I've had this property under quarantine since an hour before my arrival."

Hans whips around and examines the back yard through the window. Elsa laughs.

"Do you think I'd hire people who would be spotted so easily?"

Hans growls and turns back around, glaring at the arms dealer. "I don't believe you."

"Anna,"—Elsa instructs, never removing her eyes from Hans's—"please go outside and walk to the front gate. Kristoff should be standing there. Tell him to move in the stand-by security force and take over the mansion."

"You can't do that!" Hans shouts, looking ready to fight or bolt. Possibly both.

Elsa tilts her head at the sentiment, as if it confuses her. "I can make kingdoms bow in submission yet I can't take over a single estate?" She asks, humming in an exaggerated show of thought. "I don't quite think that's right."

Hans launches himself over the desk, his hands aiming for Elsa's neck. Elsa easily side-steps and slams her elbow into the back of his neck. He drops like sack of potatoes, out cold.

Standing over him, Elsa allows herself an amused chuckle. "You think I deal in this deep dark world without knowing how to defend myself? Ha! What an idiot." Glancing up from the body, Elsa finds her eyes locked with Anna's eerily calm gaze. Clearing her throat, Elsa awkwardly rubs the back of her neck. "Sooo . . . I'm sorry for not telling you about all this sooner. I wanted to, I did, but I didn't want to get you all riled up only to tell you later that I was wrong. I didn't want to tell you without solid proof, and I know that's selfish of me but I . . . I didn't want to upset you."

Anna is silent for a long time, her eyes merely searching Elsa's face. For what the platinum blond couldn't hope to guess, but still it continued.

Until, eventually, Anna asks:

"Why?"

Elsa jolts, startled. "Why? Why what? Why I didn't tell you? If my previous expl—"

"No." Anna says, her voice soft. Too soft. It freaks Elsa out. "Why did you go through all the trouble in doing all of this? You didn't have to, let alone by the methods you used, but you did. I want to know why."

Clearing her throat, Elsa awkwardly shifts on her feet. "It . . . it might have been for selfish reasons." She admits, her face flushing. When Anna only waits for the older woman to continue, Elsa rubs her arm subconsciously. "I've gotten attached to you in a way that makes it hard to see you as a slave. I wanted to give you freedom papers, but where would you go? You had no name, no heritage – nothing to fall back on. It meant you'd be free, but you'd still be forced to stay with me. The only perk would be that you didn't have to act like a slave in public.

"I didn't want that, though." Elsa admits, her eyes flickering to the book case on the far wall. "I wanted you to have the choice to leave and be whatever you wanted to be. When I figured out that this might be your birthright I knew I had to prove it because . . . because you deserve it – you deserve to know what happened; you deserve to inherit what your parents left you. You deserve to have the chance to be whomever you want to be. This,"—Elsa gestures to the room around her—" _this_ was that chance – it was everything I could never give you."

Finally looking back into Anna's eyes, Elsa smiles weakly. "I wanted to give you the chance to be happy."

Anna's eyes has a calculating aspect to them that Elsa has never seen before, and it makes her heart run cold at the sight. A cold weight presses against her heart.

Was this not what Anna wanted?

Did she make the girl drudge up buried memories she never wanted to remember?

Is she mad that, instead of giving her the choice, Elsa decided for her?

Before the cold dread could spread to her limbs, Anna nods slowly. It's not an accepting nod, but it doesn't contain a note of rejection, either.

"I understand that,"—the redhead allows—"but someone who is merely fond of another doesn't coax two kingdoms into near war in order to restore another's heritage. So, I ask you again; why did you do this for me?"

Something in Elsa knows that she only has one chance to get this answer right. Something in her knows exactly what she needs to say. Something in her knows it's exactly what Anna needs to hear.

But something in Elsa doesn't want to admit it.

Her heart constricting, Elsa grabs the desk for support and lets out a long, controlled breath. Tears mist in her eyes.

When was the last time Elsa let someone in, then give them power over her by letting them know?

Not for a long, long time.

Elsa continues focusing on her breathing, but it slowly becomes more and more uneven. Her lip trembles. Her arms shake. Her legs go weak.

She doesn't know her legs collapsed out from under her until she realises Anna's arms are wrapped around her, holding her up. The younger girl slowly lowers the elder to the ground, where she continues to quake.

With her chest heaving and anxiety clenching at the back of her neck, Elsa airs; "It's because I love you." A sob rips through her, taking both women by surprise. "I didn't mean to, but I fell in love with you." She admits, stronger than before.

"Oh, Elsa." Anna breathes, her eyes finally softening. She guides the platinum blond to the crook of her neck. Elsa hacks and pulls away, viciously wiping at her nose and mouth.

"I think I just inhaled a family of dust bunnies." She confides, coughing uncontrollably.

Cackling loudly, Anna pats Elsa's shoulder reassuringly. When the fit finally subsides, Anna says:

"After I gain legal right over this property, I think I'll get Gerta, Kai and the others over here to help me out."

Elsa regards the younger woman in confusion. "But they're my slaves."

Anna smiles, ignoring the arms dealer. "I think it'd best to use your current home as an outpost for your over-viewers. It can be a goods checking station and a distribution post. I mean, what's the point in staying there when you have a much better place to stay?"

A frown slowly pulls at Elsa's lips. "I . . . I don't think I follow."

Her smile broadening, Anna lays a hand on the side of Elsa's neck. "I want to be happy, Elsa." The redhead whispers, resting her forehead against the elder's. "And I can't be happy without you."

Elsa's eyes light up. "Does that mean—"

"Yes." Anna chuckles, grinning. "I love you, too."

Without ceremony, Elsa pulls Anna the rest of the way and crashes their lips together. Breathing out a contented sigh, Elsa molds her lips together with Anna's. She can feel the redhead's smile, but it doesn't stop her from reciprocating with affectionate vigor.

Pulling away with a chuckle, Anna says; "I'm going to go get Kristoff. You start getting Arendelle and the Southern Isles to be nicer to each other again, okay?"

Elsa grins. "Aye aye, partner."

Anna rolls her eyes, but there's a noticeable hint of delight in them as she pushes to her feet and makes her way to the door.

As the girl just gets out of sight, Elsa calls; "If you could get the dust off you, that'd be great too!"

* * *

Five years later.

"Hey Elsa, can you pay the main blacksmith in the town over a visit? I'm being understanding and nice, but he's taking advantage of it. Now, I promised him that I would keep him from harm so long as he does what I say, but could you or your goons make a 'unordered' visit to keep the man in line? Don't say anything if you agree – it's better if I don't know."

Elsa twitches a smile from her lounged position on the couch in Anna's office—formally Hans's office—and continues reading through the documents in her hands.

Over the past five years Anna has taken over the front of Elsa's arms dealing business and deals in honest, legitimate contracts that keep up good relations with all of her partners. Elsa, on the other hand, has taken over the underhanded and dirty network connections of the business. Part of her job includes slinking around 'behind Anna's back' to enforce unspoken laws and agreements if their connections start getting too comfortable.

Oddly enough, it's actually a fitting arrangement that suits the pair just fine.

"Did you sign the contract with Arendelle yet?" Elsa asks, changing the topic. Anna grunts and waves the bulky thing in the air.

"Look at this." She says, gesturing to the pages with her free hand. "Who the fuck writes _thirty-two_ goddamn pages for an arms dealer contract?" She asks, slamming the thing back onto her desk. "It'll take me forever to just read through it, let alone the next two scans where I have to check for any underhanded fine print. I swear, the next time I see Agdar I'm going to bitch slap him in the face with this fucking thing."

Gnawing on the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing, Elsa clears her throat. "Please don't." She says, but she's not quite able to keep her amusement from her words. Anna raises an eyebrow and glances over to the older girl, who coughs repeatedly in an attempt to keep the smile from her face.

"Really?" Anna drawls, resting her cheek in her hand. "Because, from where I sit, it kind-of sounds like that's exactly what you want me to do."

Clearing her throat more violently this time, Elsa carefully sets her underground network report onto the coffee table and pushes up into a seated position. "I would never condone such a thing."

Anna's lips twitch upward into an amused smirk. "Considering your specialty in this partnership, shouldn't that sentiment be the expressed the other way around?"

Elsa snorts in playful indignation. "I may go around punching people in the face, but even I'm not stupid enough to slam a heavy-ass document into a king's precious cheekbone." She chortles. "No matter how amusing it'd be to watch."

She sees Anna try to hold back a laugh, but soon the woman is bent over her desk and clutching her stomach as she hoots and roars. Elsa grins at the sight and joins her. The two only stop when their abdomens hurt too much to continue. Or it could have been when they heard someone knocking on the door. Maybe it was both.

"Come in." Anna calls, still trying to get her residual high-pitched wheezing to dissipate. The doors are pushed open to reveal Kai. Anna's eyes light up immediately.

Even though all of Elsa's slaves were transferred into Anna's mansion and, as a result, into her care, she never stopped treating them the way she had when she was shackled alongside them. She'd even taken to calling them 'staff' long before she'd even thought of drawing up their freedom documents, which was given to them three years ago. To Elsa's amazement, no one on staff even considered waltzing out the door afterwards – they just thanked the pair of them and continued on with their jobs.

The only difference for before, really, is that now the staff is actually being paid for their services.

"Kai!" Anna cheers, grinning from ear to ear. Kai can't stop himself from smiling in return. Anna leans forward—even though it does little good with the table in front of her—and whispers; "Please save me from the tyranny of documents. Distract the oppressive ogre—"

"Hey!"

"—while I make a run for it."

"I'm not forcing you to stay here and read that fucking thing – if you want to leave go right ahead. I won't stop you." Elsa huffs, crossing her arms over her chest and dramatically flinging her head to the side.

Kai glances between the two women and tries his best not to laugh, but the humour still shines through his passive façade. "I'm afraid neither of you will be able to leave the premises right now." He says, breaking the playful moment.

Elsa and Anna both frown and share a look. After a couple seconds of silent conversation, Anna says:

"Are we in trouble with authorities?" Her eyebrows furrow in confusion. "No, that doesn't make any sense – we hold too much power for anyone to try anything stupid against us."

"Could be an out-of-town hired gang from our rival arms dealers. They've been trying to weasel into our territory sense before I even met you." Elsa suggests.

Anna shakes her head. "We're far too cemented, dependable and relied upon for anyone to turn to an outside source for weapons. Hell, we control the blacksmiths from Arendelle all the way to the Southern Isles – if anyone tried to upset that, especially with your protection grid, they'd be slaughtered before they could find an barn to squat in."

"If I may,"—Kai cuts in—"if you'd simply hear me out, then you'll know your answer." Elsa and Anna share a sheepish expression.

"Sorry." Anna murmurs.

Elsa clears her throat. "So what's going on?" She asks, pushing her way through the awkwardness.

Kai nods and says; "King Agdar of Arendelle has just pulled into the estate and is being shown to a room as a courtesy, despite arriving unannounced."

For the longest time the women just stare at the man with blank expressions. Then, slowly, Elsa's face contorts into confusion.

"It's takes three months to travel here by land and six weeks to travel here if you sail and then take a carriage. Why in the seven hells would he make a trip like that and not announce himself?"

A frown mars Anna's lips. "Perhaps he was on his way to a diplomatic visit to Corona or the Southern Isles? Maybe even Weselton, if he's unlucky."

"If that's the case, then why isn't Idun with him?"

"Probably because he left her in charge of the kingdom – you know how the both of them only leave the council in charge if they truly have to. I don't blame him – those old men are a sack of bitter old bones. It'd probably be better if they croak."

"I could arrange that."

"Please don't."

"Funny how it sounds like that's exactly what you want me to do."

"I admit it'd be a lot easier on our business with Arendelle, but I'd rather not get on the wrong side of the sovereign."

"You mean the exact same one you wanted to bitch slap with that huge-ass document your still pouring over?"

Anna glares at the platinum blond, but Elsa only grins cheekily. Rolling her eyes, Anna turns back to Kai. "Is he being shown to my office?" She asks.

"We were waiting on your word." Kai says. "Although he might be in the waiting room already. Do you want me to get him?"

Anna nods. "Please."

When Kai leaves, Elsa nods to the contract still sitting on Anna's desk. "You might want to hide that. Wouldn't wanting him pressuring or guilting you into signing it, now would you?"

Anna quickly complies and shoves the thing into one of the drawers in her desk. She is just shutting it when the unexpected guest is announced.

"King Agdar of Arendelle." Kai says. Agdar, dressed in almost stupidly fine clothes, strides into the room. Anna nods to Kai and he obediently shuts the doors.

Smiling, Anna stands and bows at the shoulders. "Your majesty, what a pleasant surprise."

Agdar glances over Anna's attire and raises an eyebrow.

Unlike the usual fine dresses he's seen the redhead in, she is currently donning worn out black breeches, tucked into leather boots, and an off-white tunic. Anna flushes red when she realises.

Before the girl can turn into a blubbering embarrassed mess, Elsa stands from the couch and makes herself known.

"Your majesty." She addresses, bowing at the shoulders. Although her attire isn't much better than Anna's—form fitting trousers tucked into scuffed leather boots and a loose royal blue tunic with the sleeves rolled up—she acts as if it were nothing of notable concern. "I apologise for our state of dress, but we strove to meet with you immediately. It is unlike you to make a visit unannounced, and we determined your purpose here to be of the upmost importance. I hope you will look over this minor aspect of our outfits in light of our intentions."

Agdar stares at the woman for a long couple of seconds before a smile—barely a twitch of the lips—forms on his face. "On top of your game as always, I see." He says. "It's sometimes hard to believe you aren't noble born."

Elsa snorts. "I'll leave that to her."—She gestures to Anna—"I like my job too much to give it up for petty verbal squabbling." Anna raises an eyebrow.

"Isn't that what we do? Like, _all the time?_ Why do you stick around with me, then?"

"That's different." Elsa says, passing her off with a grin. "Bickering with you is fun."

"I know so many situations where I beg to differ."

Elsa barks a laugh. "That's only because you're afraid to admit you're in love with a insensitive, socially inept weirdo like me in front of royalty." Elsa glances to Agdar in surprise, acting—quite badly—that this is her first time seeing him. "My, I think I might have ousted you." Anna slaps herself in the face.

Despite Agdar's face remaining passive, a shine of delight sparks in his eyes at the easy back-and-forth the two are prone to having.

These women are the only two who ever deal with him like he's a human being instead of the ruler of a kingdom. He admits it can get terribly annoying at times, but the two are always keen enough to pull punches when they see him getting irritated. Unlike all the other people he has the displeasure of dealing with, these two always have a way of making business just a little more interesting and, oddly enough, refreshing.

Although he would never admit it out loud, these two have come to mean a lot to him over the past five years.

They way they act around him, however, gives him the feeling that they already know.

"So what's your business here?" Anna asks, finally getting down to business. "If it's about the contract, I still having finished going over it yet."

"It's not that we don't trust you,"—Elsa cuts in—"we just don't trust the old farts in your council." Anna glares at the blond. Elsa shrugs. Agdar, no matter how much he agrees, decides it best to pretend he didn't hear anything.

"I would first like to apologise for the unscheduled visit, but I have news to give you that I think you'd both appreciate more in person."

Anna frowns. "You traveled almost two months to deliver news? It must be something unprecedented."

Agdar booms a deep chested laugh, startling the two women. "Heavens no! I admit the news is revolutionary, but I would never travel here for that sole purpose. I was on my way to Corona, and since your location is only a couple days journey out of the way, I decided to make a pit stop. Gives the crew time to restock the ship and step on solid land, as well, so it was a positive detour no matter how you look at it."

Elsa tilts her head curiously. Anna is half tempted to ruffle the girl's hair like you would a dog, but decides better than breaking the mood of the conversation.

"So . . . what's so important that you needed to tell us in person?" Elsa asks, her interest peaking. Anna can almost see the woman's imaginary dog ears standing at erect attention, keen on absorbing all sound. It's almost enough to make her grin, but she somehow manages to contain the urge.

A broad, warm smile breaks over the King's regal mask. "Because of your combined efforts of ousting the Sutherlands from inheriting any throne and stabilizing relations between my kingdom and the Southern Isles,"—Elsa wants to note that she's the reason the conflict even existed and that it only stopped when she threatened to strangle their economies, but she manages to contain herself—"I wanted to do my part in thanking you.

"The typical methods weren't capable of expressing the magnitude of my gratitude, so I've been working diligently to find something else of equal value." Agdar pauses for effect, his smile broadening. "After so many interactions with you two it finally clicked, and I've been working meticulously the past two and a half years to pass it through the council."

Elsa and Anna share a confused look, both neither interrupt the sovereign.

Agdar scans the two women—whatever for they couldn't say—until finally he says; "Your affection for each other inspired me, especially the openness in which you present it. It was never a question, even upon first meeting, that you two were together. I thought your fondness for each other might fade, but I was contentedly proven wrong time and time again.

"Therefore, I have passed a law in Arendelle that if two women fatefully serve the crown and have been openly together for a number of years, the ruling monarch is allowed to wed them."

One second. Two seconds.

Anna raises her hand over her mouth, tears welling in her eyes.

Three seconds. Four seconds.

Elsa gingerly retakes her seat on the sofa.

"The council didn't like it very much." Agdar continues, filling the silence. "In fact they fought it tooth and nail, but they eventually relented. Mainly because they realised not many women would be willing to risk their safety by being open like the law requires, but it was a victory nonetheless. A step in the right direction, at any rate."

When the pair—still recovering from shock—refuse to speak, Agdar shrugs. "Granted, your marriage would only be rightfully recognised in Arendelle, but even that is even better than nowhere, right?"

Again, he is met with silence.

He shifts uneasily and opens his mouth to ask for their opinion, when he was abruptly cut off.

"Gerta!" Elsa cries, jumping to her feet and flying out of the room. With her volume and echo, he can still hear her shout; "Gerta! I need a ring!"

That seems to snap Anna out of it, because she too is soon flying around her desk growling; "Oh no you don't. There's no way in hell I'm going to let you give me one first." As she sprints out of the room, she screams; "Kai! I need a ring, and I need it now!"

Agdar stands rooted in place, blinking.

Slowly, an affectionate smile spreads over his lips.

Yes; this was the best gift he could have ever given them, and he is proud that he'll be the one to bless them into official matrimony.

He hears someone being tackled to the ground, a couple grunts of pain, and Anna shouting:

"Don't you dare give her that ring, Gerta! I'm going to be the one to ask the question even if it fucking kills me! _Kai!_ Get me that stupid ring _now!_ Gerta, _don't you dare_."

Somehow, the violent spew only succeeds in making Agdar's smile widen.

Yes, this was definitely the right way to go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right, so maybe this time I can suppress my niceness and actually stay gone this time.
> 
> Anyway, I am notified whenever anyone PM's me, so I can guarantee that I will answer you if you decide to send a message my way. If you just want to let me know something without expecting a response, feel free to leave a comment (applicable to FFnet. With AO3 I'll answer all comments).
> 
> As I've said before – I love you guys. After all, I would have never of written this if some of you hadn't of been so persistent in wanting it.
> 
>  **PS.** Hans was tortured and is currently either dead or rotting in prison. That's my wrap up of that dude's story line.


	7. Mafia Leaders Elsa and Anna

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special Exception for Tripower
> 
> This is my last exception in accepting prompts. I accepted because I'm a fan of Tripower's artwork (which you can find on DeviantART and Tumblr), and because they gave me a rough outline so I wouldn't have to take time out of my life demands to do so. 
> 
> I'm too nice for my own good, I swear to God. 
> 
> So, for the sake of my fragile, mushy heart: please don't send me prompts anymore. If you do anyway, well, I guess I'll just ignore you. Heh.

**Pre-story:**

Based in the prohibition era—the period from 1920 to 1933 when the sale of alcoholic beverages was prohibited in the United States by a constitutional amendment—Elsa and Anna are the duel leaders of the Ice Queen mafia. They are openly together and, despite what society thinks, they're too powerful for anyone to do anything about it.

The Ice Queen mafia—tighter than a band of siblings—is the biggest mob in Arendelle – having more policemen, politicians and other important figures in their pocket than all their other rival gangs combined. Their biggest competitor for turf is the Thirteen Sons, lead by the Sutherland brothers.

* * *

The small out-of-the-way illegal bar is surprisingly packed. Not too many nowadays like the chance of getting caught by a police officer with alcohol on their breath. Nonetheless, the restless civilians seem to be enjoying the thrill of being in an illegal establishment and drinking illegal substances.

As long as Ice Queen gets money from them, they don't right care about these people's reasons for being here.

In a private booth guarded by two Ice Queen mafia members—identified by the snowflake embroidered on their jackets and tattooed somewhere on their body—the two leaders discuss business with two of their top members.

"I suppose it makes sense." Rapunzel says, blowing a long strand of golden hair out of her face. "But I still don't like it."

Rapunzel is a subtle hitter in gang. She works behind the scenes to manipulate people into bending to Ice Queen's will, using her title as a politician's wife to get in with crowds of higher sophistication. She wears a light purple conservative dress; she tried getting away with having a lower neck line at some point, but it didn't go over very well. Everyone in the mob thought it did wonders for her complexion, but outside of that there were stuffy-ass men and women accusing her of being a whore. Anna wanted to break their legs. Elsa wanted to kill their pets. Rapunzel's husband, Eugene—also a valued member of the mafia—somehow convinced them not to.

Kristoff, his arms crossed over his chest, snorts. "Doll, no one here likes it." He picks up the wine bottle they were referring to and cocks his arm to throw it.

Kristoff is a heavy hitter in the group. He often accompanies the deal strikers in the mob for protection and persuasive muscle. He wears a half-unbuttoned red collared shirt with an untied black bowtie hanging around his neck, brown suspenders, black dress pants and scuffed dress shoes.

"Kristoff." Elsa warns, narrowing her eyes. Kristoff sighs and sets the bottle back on the table with a _bang_ and a disgruntled huff. Elsa raises an eyebrow.

Elsa wears a blue collared shirt with a black tie, a white waistcoat, white gloves, navy blue dress pants and polished black dress shoes. She shares her top dog position in Ice Queen with Anna. Neither of the two women have more power than the other.

Anna barks a laugh. "Jesus Kristoff, you don't get all tingly on the first gulp so you want to smash the poor thing?" Kristoff glares.

Anna, the more active of the top-dog pair, wears a green collared shirt with the top buttons undone and the sleeves rolled up past her elbows, a black waistcoat, black dress pants and polished military-grade combats.

"This wine sucks and you fucking know it." The man snarls.

"Of course it sucks." Anna replies, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "But just because we don't like it doesn't mean we can't sell it to some stupid prick. If we can't manage that, I don't see why we can't smash it in the seller's face for false advertisement." She pauses, thinks, and turns to Elsa. "Should we do the latter anyway?"

The corners of Elsa's lips twitch in amusement. "While it would be highly entertaining to see you treat the man to Ice Queen's hospitality, I've already sent someone else to take care of it." Anna pouts. Elsa laughs. "You'll get plenty more opportunities, feisty thing. Be patient."

Rapunzel laughs. "Anna? Patient?" She breaks down into fits of laughter. Kristoff snorts, trying his best not to follow suit, and failing miserably.

After a half-hearted glare, Anna picks up the bottle of Russian vodka set off to the side of the table and pours it into a shot glass. Between the time that she puts the cap back on and sets it down, the shot glass is gone. Anna glares at the two across the table.

"I swear to fuck you two—"

Elsa barks a laugh. Anna turns to the woman sitting beside her. Like the guilty party she is, Elsa holds the glass in plain view and stares at the younger woman with eyes that dare her to try something.

Long since learning better of trying to snatch something from the quick reflexes of her partner, Anna holds out her hand.

"Give me my drink." She says. Elsa raises an eyebrow. Anna sighs. " _Please_ give me my drink."

A mischievous light sparks in Elsa's eyes and she smirks. "If you want it, you're going to have to come and get it." Anna opens her mouth to question, but it dies in her throat when Elsa throws back the shot and doesn't swallow it.

Rolling her eyes in an exaggerated show of irritation, Anna leans forward and gives Elsa an open mouth kiss with her head tilted back to catch the alcohol. Anna pulls back after she drinks the shot—to Elsa's disapproval, if the sulking pout is anything to go by—and turns back to the other two people at the table.

Rapunzel sighs, her eyes off in dreamland. "I wish Eugene would do half the kinky shit you two do."

"I wish they wouldn't do it in public." Kristoff grunts, shifting his legs uneasily.

Anna snorts. "You think _that_ was kinky?" She asks, ignoring Kristoff. "If you _really_ want to see kinky, you should view what we do in private."

Elsa hits Anna. Kristoff's eyes widen and he crosses his legs. Rapunzel lights up.

"Can I actually?" She asks.

"No." Elsa grunts.

"I don't see why not." Anna chirps, earning her a glare from her partner. "As long as you don't do anything weird to throw off our jiv—"

Elsa slams her hand over Anna's mouth, cheeks burning. Anna's eyes sparkle in amusement. Elsa clears her throat.

"No,"—she says, as calmly as she can—"you are not allowed to see what we do in private."

Anna giggles and pulls Elsa's hand away. "Spoil sport." She teases, jabbing her thumb in Rapunzel's direction. "I was trying to be nice to get her to join us—"

"Two is company, three is a crowd." Elsa grunts, her cheeks burning brighter.

Anna grins. "That's not how I remember it." She makes a show of tapping her chin in thought. "From what I recall, it was; 'one is too lonely, two makes you whole, but three is so awesome it'll never get old.'"

Elsa's face is practically on fire by now, but—in a semi-calm voice—she still manages to say; "I'm not doing it."

Anna chortles. "Is it because you only want to touch me with your gloves off and no one else?" Anna punches Elsa lightly in the shoulder. "Sentimental softy."

Elsa harrumphs and crosses her arms over her chest. Anna contorts herself and tries to catch the other woman's eye, but the aforementioned woman turns her face out of view. Anna pouts.

"Does this mean I have to service myself tonight?"

Kristoff coughs loudly. No one pays him any mind.

"If you keep talking like this, I won't even let you in the fucking warehouse." Elsa says.

"Aww, you mean I won't be able to make any sounds in your ear while I drag myself over the edge?"

Kristoff stands abruptly, his hands covering his front. He mutters something about needing to use the washroom and shuffles away. Anna stares after him. After a moment, she turns to Rapunzel.

"If I had known that that was all it took to get him to leave of his own free will, I would have started doing it so much sooner."

Rapunzel giggles. Elsa shoots the redhead a glare.

"If you continue using this as a tactic, I will assign you to another part of the city."

Hearing the very real warning—and not wanting to be separated from her partner for months on end—Anna humbly clears her throat, willing to pretend the previous conversation never happened.

"So, is there anything interesting happening in the cabinet?" She asks, to Elsa's approval.

Rapunzel shrugs. "Other than the usual shit they spiel, you mean?" Anna nods. Rapunzel hums thoughtfully. "Well, Eugene and I have been having trouble with one Senator – Kyle Smith. You're probably aware that he's a former customer of ours and, until recently, one of our safety net links. I don't know what changed, but he now wants to do a one eighty and be a active participant in taking the black market alcohol business down."

Anna and Elsa's expressions harden immediately.

"What have you two been doing about it?" Elsa asks, a dark edge curling around her words.

Rapunzel lets loose a heavy sigh. "Eugene and I have been trying to get him to see sense, even going as far as threatening the wellbeing of his wife and kids. We were able to keep him in line with methods like this for a time, but I'm afraid we're slowly losing our grip on him. It's only a matter of time before he turns from being a liability to a threat."

Elsa and Anna lock eyes, a silent conversation spreading between them.

With harsh, calculating eyes, Elsa turns back to the golden blond. "Contact Belle. Give her all the information you have on Senator Kyle Smith down to what shoe polish he uses and tell her to contract Mulan to deal with him."

Rapunzel's shoulder's stiffen at the mention of the Chinese hit woman, but, mumbling something about going to the back to use the telephone, she obediently obeys her boss's command. When only the two leaders are left in the booth, Anna taps her fingers thoughtfully on the table.

"I would have gone with Shang." She comments, her jaw muscles still jumping in aggravation at the setback.

"Too clean." Elsa says, her voice calculated. "Mulan tends to like leaving a statement. I think we very much need it to keep our other links from getting any fucking stupid ideas like this shit-head has. After all, if we're willing to kill a senator, why would we hold back on anyone else?"

Anna hums. "True." She murmurs. She crosses her arms over her chest and leans back into the cushions of the U bench. "Either way, we still have to start thinking of how to get in other cabinet member who's on our side."

"Let me worry about that." Elsa rumbles, her eyes narrowing at the empty shot glass in front of her. Deliberately paced, the platinum blond reaches forward, wraps her hand around the small object and squeezes as hard as she can. It breaks into three pieces. Fanning out her fingers and letting the broken glass clatter to the table, Elsa pushes up from her spot on the connected seat and exits the booth. "I'm going to make arrangements. I'll be up late and you have a shipment to inspect early tomorrow morning, so I'll leave you to your own devices. If you're still awake when I get home I'll make sure you're not left high and dry like I am now, but I won't make any promises."

Anna stares on as Elsa walks away, then to the broken remnants of the once glorified liquid courage holder. Huffing a vaguely amused laugh, she grabs a regular glass from the small selection at the side of the table and a small bottle of twelve year old bourbon.

"That's my girl." Anna whispers, pouring the whisky into her glass.

* * *

Anna is already halfway dressed and sitting on the edge of the bed tugging on her boots when Elsa starts waking up the next morning.

Elsa had arrived home at the Ice Queen den at two in the morning, and it was nearly half an hour later until she managed to trudge herself up the stairs to the room she shares with Anna. Anna had woken up with a start when her partner unceremoniously collapsed on the bed fully clothed, not even bothering to get under the covers.

After biting away her initial amusement, Anna was able to coax the older woman out of at least her pants and shoes before cuddling with her under their sheets. The redhead gave the blond a kiss goodnight and—by some strange twist—it had ended in a steamy session that quickly got rid the pair of all their clothes and ended in multiple orgasms.

Whatever Elsa ended up doing last night that got her so worked up Anna will never know, but she certainly hopes it happens again.

"Where'd you go?" Elsa slurs tiredly, patting her hand around on the bed – too lazy to open her eyes.

Snickering, Anna—with one bootlace left untied and her collared shirt completely unbuttoned—crawls over to her sleepy partner and kisses the corner of her mouth. Elsa's lips twitch upwards and she hums in approval. Anna goes to pull away, but the devilish older woman wraps her arm around Anna's neck, yanks her down and holds her fast against her chest. Grunting, the younger woman tries half heartedly to escape.

"Come on, Elsa." Anna says, her voice muffled by the skin under Elsa's collarbone. "I need to go to the docks to inspect our latest shipment within the hour, and I'm not even finished dressing yet."

"Mm. Good." Elsa murmurs, a tired smirk forming on her lips. "I like you better undressed, anyway."

Resisting the urge to cackle at her partner's adorable morning sentiment, Anna squirms her way out of Elsa's grip and jumps away before the girl can snatch her again. Said girl whimpers like a whipped puppy in response.

"Jesus, if you don't stop being so damn cute I'm never going to make it out of this place by eleven."

Elsa pouts and half cracks open an eye in response. Anna's heart flutters at the gesture. Elsa's gaze flickers to Anna's open shirt and she cracks a smirk.

"I don't know if it's endearing that you put on your shirt first but it's the last thing you button up, or if I should be concerned with your brain's order of priorities."

Snorting, Anna sits back down on the edge of the bed and ties up her other combat. "Maybe I prioritized it so that you can stare at my abs longer."

Elsa hums. "I see your point – you definitely have your priorities in order." Anna barks a laugh.

"You know, for being such a logical business person,"—Anna stands, buttoning up her green collared shirt—"you have a more perverted mind than all the men in Ice Queen combined."

"If they had to handle your tantalizing all day I'm sure they'd be in the same boat."

Chuckling at the woman's expense, Anna puts on her black waistcoat on and starts doing up the buttons. "It not my fault people find it hard to keep up with my charm." She says.

"Your libido, more like." Elsa murmurs.

Giving the woman a shit-eating grin and a wink, Anna strides out the door, leaving it wide open in her wake.

"Hey! Shut th— you vindictive fucker! You _know_ I'm naked under these sheets!"

Anna's loud cackle echoes through the halls, but she doesn't come back.

Groaning, Elsa throws her arms over her eyes, half debating on waiting for someone to come by so she can get them to shut the door, or risking someone seeing her by doing it herself.

Not liking the thought of people invading her privacy by peering in, she chooses the later.

It's a good thing she decided to wrap one of the sheets around her as an afterthought, or else she would have given Kristoff one hell of a view.

When she hears the door to the bathroom slam not moments later, Elsa gets the feeling that the extra layer really didn't matter all that much to the man.

* * *

Even with the slight delay Anna experienced with Elsa in the morning and the traffic, the mafia leader still manages to arrive at the docks five minutes early. Stepping out of the slick black nineteen twenty's Buick with her three body guards in tow, Anna makes her way to the offloading cargo.

Standing around the mound of crates that are worth a small fortune are some sleazy-looking business men.

Anna frowns, her pace slowing.

It's not that Elsa and her don't deal with sleazy types, because—in regards to shipments—those types are typically all they deal with. The difference is that the top dog pair always make a point of dealing with the same sleaze-balls again and again, and these aren't faces that Anna recognizes.

Her three guards—the same three who always go with her—notice the same thing, and their hands automatically lay on the grip of their Kongsberg Colt's.

Anna suddenly wishes she had brought one of her own.

It's not that Anna is ignorant in believing that she doesn't need one because she has guards, it's just that if she had to use any type of force she prefers to use hand-to-hand combat. No one ever expects a girl to know to snap elbows, break kneecaps and make a man two times her size drop with one punch to the solar plexus when her opponent can fight back.

The only time she breaks this preference and bares a weapon is in situations she feels might turn into a huge chaotic shit-fit in one hell of a hurry. A type of situation that feels dangerously like the one she walking into.

She curses her lack of foresight.

"Well, well, well." Anna says with an easy, dangerous smile sliding over her lips as she stops three meters away from the closest man. "It seems you're trying to squeeze into a position that's already been filled. Unless you have a deal to offer, I suggest you leave while you still have enough blood inside you to live."

One of the men in the back cackles quietly to himself, obviously not taking the violent 'womanly' advice seriously.

The main man gives a sickeningly superior smile that makes Anna want to punch off his stupid scruffy mustache.

"Really?" He asks, slowly. "Because I think you'll find that there are a lot of positions opening up today."

His hand raises. Anna's eyes widen. She turns her legs to jelly to instantly plummet to a knee, screaming for her body guards to get down.

She only gets out half the sentence before three loud sniper shots ring through the air.

Gritting her teeth, Anna risks a glance over her shoulder; just in time to see all three bodies collapse to the ground like sacks of potatoes.

She knew those men. She knew their names, their hopes, dreams, their personality – she's even meet one man's wife, and another one's wife and kids. The one without a wife has two wonderful parents and the two sweetest younger brothers Anna has ever met.

She's going to have to break the news to two wives, two parents and five children that their husband, son, brother or fathers are never coming home.

The thought if it alone is enough to make her want to sob and retch.

Instead Anna clenches her teeth so tight she's afraid her molars will crack under the pressure, and turns her murderous sight back on the cocky, smirking men before her.

"You're going to fucking regret that." Anna snarls, baring her teeth.

Someone inside a nearby warehouse barks a condescending laugh. "Oh, I highly doubt that."

Anna's teeth grind upon hearing the voice. Hearing footsteps approaching from the same direction as the voice she never wanted to listen to again, Anna turns her deadly glower to the youngest Sutherland bother.

"I should have known the Thirteen Son's had something to do with this." Anna growls.

Hans shrugs. "As a woman you should know a great number of things. Like how this is a man's world and that your knowledge should only be broad enough to accommodate your husband's needs, but you still fail to comprehend even that." He tsk's. "Don't worry, though."—He smirks—"I'll certainly help you overcome that problem."

A scowl spreads over Anna's lips. "If you so much as try, I'll rip your fucking balls off."

Hans barks a loud, grating laugh. "With your pitiful strength it'll be just enough of a tug to make me moan in your ear." Hearing Anna growl in response, Hans grins. "Oh poor Anna – if only you were a man, then maybe you'd have enough brains and brawns to make it in this lifestyle."

"What do you want with me?" Anna snaps, hearing just about enough. She knows in the end the underestimation of these men will work in her favour, but she'd rather shoot herself in the foot than hear them brag about their wrongful assumptions.

Hans shrugs. "Having two people run a mafia is a weakness, especially if they're together. By taking the weaker of the pair—you—we can get Ice Queen to bend to our every demand on the promise of returning you. We won't, of course, but Elsa doesn't know that – and, even if she does, she wouldn't want us harming you any more than we're already going to."

 _Funny_. Anna thinks. _Out of the pair of us, I was probably the worst one to choose._

It's not that Elsa isn't good in hand-to-hand, because she is, it's just that she's a specialized long distance fighter – better with weapons and words than with her fists. Elsa could still take out these hussies if she needed to, but she'd have a harder time doing it if she couldn't get her hands on one of their guns.

"So I'm the weakest link?" Anna drawls. "Does that mean Thirteen Son's sent _their_ weakest link to capture me? After all, why send a skilled man to do a lackey's job?"

She hit a nerve, and she _knows_ she did even without the rage that pools into Hans's face in response. He is a man after all – his ego is ten times bigger than whatever baby balls he retained from birth. Anna would be surprised if the little things fled when they realised their owner was a prat.

"How _dare_ you!"

Anna silently eggs him on as he marches towards her. Just four more steps and she can—

"No boss!" A man says as he and other holds the raging redheaded man back. "Our orders are to bring her back unharmed. Do you know what your brothers will do to us if we don't listen?" That gets Hans to stop, but the tightening of his jaw tells Anna that it's not a willing motion.

"Fine." Hans grits, yanking his arms free. "Tie her up, shove her in the car and pull a bag over her head." Without waiting to see if the men do as ordered, he marches off.

* * *

The ride to the Thirteen Son's nest is surprisingly pleasant.

Despite the 'you are a weak little girl' reception she received on the dock, her driver and guards are oddly good company. For most of the ride they made small talk, and Anna was able to get them roaring with laughter after telling a funny story.

Of course Anna is doing this more for her own comfort instead of using it as a ploy to escape; she knows these men won't let her go no matter how hard she tries, but she can at least hope to win them over. The more friends she has in enemy territory the better, after all.

Unfortunately, the three were only there to deliver her and drive off. It's probably for the best – Anna had lost the heart to kill them if push had came to shove.

And shoved she was; she was shoved, pushed and prodded—still with the black bag over her head—down some winding godforsaken hallways until her new guards eventually kick her into a room, shove her into a chair and rip the bag off her head.

Blowing the bangs out of her eyes, Anna glances around the room.

It really isn't much to look at. Aside from her chair, there is only a hanging blub in the ceiling; there are no windows, no colour aside gray along with the faint spatters of long-dried blood, and it smells of something awful.

Yup. This is definitely an interrogation room.

Anna shrugs. Could have been worse; it could have been Hans's bedroom.

She definitely prefers this.

As her hands—tied in front of her—wriggle in an attempt to loosen the rope, her eyes glance around to find every possible advantage in the architecture. Even though she's not given any more than two minutes, she already has battle plans flying through her head as she loosens the rope enough so that she can get her hands out without breaking them. Of course, with the latter, it's still tight enough to take off a couple layers of skin if she's forced to actually rip out her hands, but at least she won't have to reset bone.

When the door opens, Anna makes a point of grinning languidly and spreading her bound hands in greeting.

"Welcome to my hole." Anna welcomes, flopping her hands down on her thighs. "It may not be much to look at, but I assure you that, if you'd of given me more time to settle in, I'd of given it a homey make over."

"Cut the shit." The oldest of the three men growls. Anna shrugs.

"Sure. Give me a knife and a cutting board."

The eldest holds out his arm to stop the youngest, Hans, from lashing out. The man huffs in irritation but backs off. The eldest—obviously the leader—narrows his eyes at the Ice Queen leader.

"Are you aware of how dangerous of a position you're in?"

Anna tilts her head to the side, feigning confusion. "I was unaware sitting was a dangerous position. I find it quite comfortable."

Once again, Hans lashes. This time it's the guard who restrains him. Anna cackles.

"The Sutherlands never could take easy banter." Anna quips, amusement twinkling in her eyes.

The eldest steps forward, grabs Anna's bangs and rips her head back, forcing her to look up into his eyes as he towers over her.

"It would not be a wise idea to taunt us." He hisses, a dark warning leaking from his words. Anna narrow her eyes and sets her jaw, her amusement gone in an instant.

"Why should I, James?"—His eyes flash in surprise, but Anna continues before he can respond—"Should I because you are the leader of the Thirteen Sons? Because you beat your brothers in this tricky game of power and come out on top? Or should I simply because you are a man and I am a woman?" An oily, venomous smile snakes over her lips. "No matter the reason, you will never get the respect or recognition you want from me, because you will never change into a person I deem worthy enough to receive it."

Punch.

Spitting, Anna runs her tongue along her teeth and the inside of her cheek. Readjusting her neck to work out the sudden kink, Anna bobs her head slowly.

"You do have a pretty good right hook, though." She admits, stretching her jaw.

"Just get to the point." The youngest in the room growls to his brother. James gives the man a fleeting look before turning his attention back to the twin-braided redhead. Anna raises her eyebrows in mock surprise.

"Wait, there was a point to all of this? I thought it was just your crude way of asking me to join you for dinner."

Once again, the guard holds back Hans before he can lash out. Anna grins cheekily, ignoring the protesting throb her left facial muscles give in response. She sobers just as quickly, however, her eyes hardening dangerously.

"All joking aside,"—she says, and James raises an eyebrow at the sudden change—"I don't appreciate being taken against my will. To be honest, being in the position to be used as leverage really isn't an issue with me; it's not like some other dead idiots haven't done the same before. What _is_ an issue with me, however, is your precious pretty boy hiring snipers and taking out three members of my family." Anna's eyes darken. "Attacking me is one thing, but attacking my brothers and sisters-in-arms is another thing entirely. So I hope you've your prayers, settled your debts and made your peace, because you've made it to the end of the line."

One second. Two seconds. Three seconds.

All three men howl with laughter. Anna smiles scathingly.

Before anyone knows what's happening, Anna twists in her chair, grabs the edge and stands swinging the heavy wooden object into James's head. Taking advantage of the other two's shock, Anna lets out a war-cry howl, steps forward and slams the sturdy chair down onto Hans's crown. He drops to the ground.

The guard has recovered and is pulling out a pistol by the time Anna turns to him. Before he can aim, Anna throws the chair at him—forcing the man to deflect—and sends a spinning round-house kick into the side of his neck. When he drops to a knee, Anna forces the gun out of his hands and shoots him in the head.

Taking the time provided because of the recovery of the two brothers, Anna pats down the guard. She finds a hunting knife in his boot and pulls it out, using it to cut the rope binding her hands.

Now free with a gun in one hand and a knife in the other, Anna shoots the eldest one in the back of the neck and the youngest in the kneecap. When he screams, a twisted smile breaks over Anna's lips.

"As much as I'd love to make you slowly realise the horrible mistakes that you've made, I have very little time to get out of here without the looming threat of being overrun." Her smile morphs into a sick grin. "Although it'd be a grand bit of fun, I don't really want to expand that much effort right for something so drab. So you could consider yourself lucky in respect that I don't have time to properly torture you,"—her grin twists darkly—"but I wouldn't really consider anything about your current position lucky. Goodbye, Hans."

She pulls the trigger.

The door slams open.

She pulls the trigger three more times.

She quickly checks over the three new bodies and gets two pistol megs and a MP 18 submachine gun. Putting her pistol on safety and shoving down the back of her pants, the megs in her pocket and her hunting knife in her boot, she takes hold of the MP 18 and dashes down the halls.

For the most part she can kill each new target with one or two bullets, but when shots start coming from behind her she's forced to aim the gun to her rear and spray controlled bursts blindly as she whips out her pistol with her other hand to continue downing the enemies that appear in front of her. Being in too many firefights to count, Anna does her best to continue running full-tilt towards the exit to prevent enough people mustering in one place to halt her progress. As much as she brags, she can't take on every member of the Thirteen Sons alone, especially not without a sufficient amount of ammo.

Throwing down the now empty submachine gun, Anna pulls a meg out of her pocket and quickly exchanges it with the one in her pistol. She cocks it just in time to pop another man between the eyes. As she runs past him, she reaches down and snatches his discarded pistol, allowing her to dual wield and take down enemies twice as quickly.

 _I'm so glad Elsa taught me how to be ambidextrous_. Anna thinks, firing her pistols at the same time and taking down two different men.

Like Anna had mentioned before, Elsa was wonder with every gun in existence before the redhead had even met her. She had known some close combat moves, but not many. Anna, on the other hand, was the exact opposite – she was brilliant in all things that accompanied close quarters fighting and was only semi proficient in weapons that weren't blades. When they finally met, they exchanged their knowledge and trained each other to be good at both sets of skills. They both still obviously prefer their native skill set, but now they're just as good at both.

Time flies by in a chaotic haze, full of bullets barely grazing or nicking her along with sprays, spatters and spurts of blood arching in the air from accurately hit Thirteen Sons' men.

The panic of only having three bullets left in the chamber doesn't have time to fully take hold as she bursts through the front doors of the warehouse and squints against the light.

Anna's heart drops when she hears gun fire coming from in front of her.

 _They couldn't have surrounded the building already_. She thinks, silently praying that her solid luck continues to hold strong.

Driven by instinct, Anna continues sprinting forward while squinting her eyes against the light, trying to distinguish the unknown gunmen. When her eyes adjust, a wide grin breaks over the girl's face.

A line of six black Ice Queen cars with four men per car stand in a row in front of the vehicles, all of them aiming weapons at the building. What takes the cake is Elsa, standing front and center, wielding two slick silver Ballester-Molina pistols and firing languidly yet still managing to hit all of her targets with deadly accuracy.

As Anna sprints close to the line, she throws her pistol to the ground and raises her hand. Getting the hint—or possibly expecting it to begin with—Kristoff, standing to Elsa's right, grins cheekily and tosses her a Tommy gun.

In one fluid motion, Anna catches the submachine, twists, drops to a knee and starts firing at the building.

Just as her clip starts running low, some of the men down the line throw grenades into the building. The moment they explode, another clip is kicked to her position and she quickly reloads. She gets her sights back up just in time to cover two of Ice Queen's men advancing on the building, one carrying heavy explosives. They enter the building and two men are quick to follow them, to protect their escape route.

The line of attack stays stock still, firing the occasional shot to kill a fleeing enemy.

Five minutes later the four men come running out of the building like bats out of hell and everyone climbs into the cars, those with submachine's spraying bullets to cover the retreat.

One block away they all hear the deafening roar of an explosion and feel the ground shake, even over the rumble of their vehicles.

They all know the Thirteen Sons is no more, but no one feels the need to comment on it.

So, with an Ice Queen member driving, Kristoff in the passenger seat and Elsa and Anna sharing the back with another member, Elsa hums thoughtfully.

"You missed lunch." She says.

"Did I?" Anna asks, leaning back into her seat. "Was it any good?"

"Not really. Gerta had the day off and we had some newbie doing it." Elsa shrugs. "It wasn't bad, per se, but it definitely wasn't as good as we're used to."

Anna rolls her eyes. "You are so spoiled."

Elsa looks to her in mock surprise and gestures to herself. "Moi? Who is the one Gerta always sneaks extra chocolates to?"

Anna raises an eyebrow. "You."

"Well _duh_ , but you do, too."

Anna rolls her eyes. "Are we just not going to address the fact that you horde your chocolate like a dragon with gold while I'm actually semi-willing to share?"

Kristoff glances back at them. "Are we just not going to address the facts of what just happened?"

Both women blind back at him.

"Why, what just happened?" Elsa asks.

"Yeah,"—Anna agrees—"I don't really remember anything that significant."

"Escaping from a mafia stronghold by yourself and then blowing them to smithereens doesn't ring a bell?" Kristoff asks, raising an eyebrow.

Elsa scoffs. "If Anna's skills diminished to the point where she couldn't escape _that_ on her own then I'd of just fucking left her there."

"Hey!" Anna snaps.

"I have a point and you know it." Elsa lazily throws back.

"Well, yeah,"—Anna concurs—"but that doesn't make it any less rude. I mean really! What if they'd of shot out my kneecaps or something?"

Elsa shrugs. "You'd crawl."

Anna chortles. "Asshole."

"Whore."

"Fuckwad."

Elsa snorts. "Fuckwad?"

Anna grins. "Hell yeah."

Kristoff rolls his eyes and turns his sights front. He isn't going to have any luck getting them to address the situation seriously, so he opts to simply not trying. He knows deep down these two took a hit and that this is their way of assuring everyone that everything's fine, and he'll let them have that moment. Later, in private, the two will probably discuss the severity of what they'd just faced, but for now they want the peace they get from being together again. He's not going to take that away from them.

"I want a burger. Can we stop somewhere on the way home?" Anna asks.

"Hell no." Elsa says.

"But I'm hungry." Anna whines.

"That's your fucking fault for getting captured." Elsa scolds.

Anna glares. "If you don't get me food within the next five fucking minutes the only orgasms you'll be getting for the next goddamn month will be by your own fucking hand."

One second. Two seconds.

Elsa flings her hand out and points to a small diner. "Food run! Pull over!" She calls.

Kristoff slaps himself in the forehead.


	8. Soldier Elsa and Queen Anna

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Pre-story:**
> 
> Anna is the only daughter of the late King and Queen. Elsa has been trained to be a soldier since she was young child. They've been sweethearts ever since they first met, when Anna was sixteen and Elsa was nineteen. At the age of twenty-one, however, Elsa was promoted to second in command of the army; just weeks before the Southern Isles declared war on Arendelle. Elsa was deployed and Anna took up the reins of Queen early. They frequently wrote letters to each other.
> 
> Three years into the war, Elsa received a Dear Jane letter. In it Anna apologized, but said she fell in love and married a man named Kristoff. Elsa didn't respond. Anna wrote more letters, but Elsa ignored them all – slowly closing herself off to everything around her, not caring if she lives or dies.
> 
> Elsa is the leader of the army by the time the war ends a year later. She doesn't return home – instead staying in the Southern Isles, overseeing the reconstruction and making sure that Arendelle's hold is secure.
> 
> A year later, Elsa—twenty-six—is ordered home by rule of the council and she—reluctantly—obeys. She is currently sailing home. Anna is ecstatic to meet back up with her childhood sweetheart, but the possibility of Elsa not sharing her excitement never occurs to her.

Kristoff twitches a smile as he watches his wife bounce back and forth, talking to all the banquet planners to make sure everything is perfect. He hasn't seen her this happy since she first held her newborn child, Emily, in her arms. That was almost a year ago. It's nice to see her happier side shine through.

The war had its toll on the young queen, damping her chipper disposition and turning her somber. Kristoff had been able to bring that old joy back to her, but only in part. Emily had been able to bring more of it back to her but, again, only partially.

Kristoff hadn't known Anna before the war, so he can't attest to what she was like back then, but Kai and Gerta both confirm that her attitude recently is rivaling what it used to be.

The former ice-harvester watches Anna trip over her own feet—barely catching herself—and continue on with nothing more than a, 'I'm fine guys, no worries'. In the time he's been with her he hasn't known her to be as klutzy as she appears now. It's not that she wasn't before, it was just significantly less.

Out of breath, the Queen slides up beside Kristoff in her sock feet, her face flushed and a grin breaking across her face. Kristoff can't help but return it.

"Are you done harassing the staff?" He asks.

"Pfft!" Anna airs, waving him off. "I'm just giving them a run for their money."

Kristoff raises an eyebrow. "You are aware that this is just a fancy dinner, right? Compared to some of the other things you've arranged, this is nothing."

"Exactly!" Anna says, punctuating her words by jabbing her finger in Kristoff's chest. "They might think that this is an event that they can half-ass because—"

"Language."

"—it isn't as big or as high-profile as some of the other shit I've done."

"Language."

Anna rolls her eyes. "I'm the Queen – I can do whatever I want."

Kristoff raises an eyebrow. "Funny, I haven't heard you utter a swear in all the time I've known you. In fact, you were always after me for my vulgarness. You only started up the habit when you received notice of Marshall Winter's return." A softness spreads over Anna's features at the name and a affectionate smile pulls at her lips.

"She always kept her poise around me, but she swore like a sailor the moment she was out of my presence. I caught her jacking up one of her soldiers once and I barely recognized her because of her language. I guess I picked it up from hanging out with her so much."

Kristoff's eyebrow raises further. "Out of all the things you've told me about her, this is not the most flattering. I know you two were infatuated with each other back then, but that really isn't an excuse to fall back on old habits just because that's how you were with her at that time; especially not such an unbecoming habit."

Anna barks a laugh. "You're free to join me in my usage if it'll make you feel more in the loop."

Kristoff twitches a grin. "About time – I thought you'd never fucking ask."

* * *

Elsa stares at the approaching shoreline with harsh eyes, as if it would go up in flames by her vengeance alone.

She used to feel so at home here.

Ice pricks at her fingertips and she closes her hands into fists, preventing herself from doing something she'll later regret.

It's not Arendelle's fault that she hates it here, and she won't punish it for the actions of one.

Sighing, Elsa leans against the railing and pinches the bridge of her nose. She never could have predicted that she'd loath leaving Arendelle just as much as she now loathes returning to it. She never could have predicted the reason for causing it.

All for the better, Elsa supposes. She drops her arm and glances back to the dock. If she had known Anna would move on from her, Elsa has no doubt in her mind that she would have marched to battle only as a noble excuse to die. As it stands, she was too entrenched in her concern for her soldiers well being to ever abandon them. She was the only sure chance they had.

Now, though – now her reason is gone. She doesn't care anymore. Not even her two closest advisers—Olaf and Marshal—can get a lick of emotion out of her. They still try, but that's only because they refuse to acknowledge that their friend died a long time ago.

It's during this dark line of thought that Elsa's eye catches a flash of red from the shoreline. Her heart instantly drops into her stomach, her throat clenches and anger rears angrily against her chest.

Anna—mounted on a horse and surrounded by royal guards—has her eyes locked on the incoming ship.

To Elsa's great dismay, that translates into looking directly at her.

Elsa only keeps her eyes on the Queen long enough to see the woman's eyes light up before, without giving any indication that she saw, turns heel and walks away from the prow. She doesn't see the slight frown that mars Anna's lips as a result.

Elsa wishes with all her heart that Anna would leave – just turn her horse away and trot in ignorant bliss back to the castle. She doesn't want to see Anna. She doesn't want to deal with her.

She doesn't want to see the look in her eye when she's introducing Elsa to her husband.

She's also afraid she might stab the man the moment she knows who he is.

"Drop anchor!" The captain shouts. The sailors quickly obey. When the heavy piece of metal is dropped, the captain calls; "Lower the gang plank!"

With ire steaming from her eyes, Elsa makes sure her uniform—a navy blue military formal pant-suit with violet trimming—is pristine and her row of metals are even. Taking a breath to freeze over her emotions and become the distant leader she's so well known as, Elsa strides to the gangplank and—with Olaf and Marshal on her heels—descends.

"This is exciting, finally being home again!" Olaf chirps, a grin plastered on his lips.

"Better late than never." Marshal grunts, his wary eyes scanning everything around him.

_Better dead or never at all_. Elsa thinks, but keeps her sour attitude to herself.

Then, all too soon for Elsa's liking, the three of them exit the dock and onto the cobblestone of the town square.

Cheering erupts from the gathered citizens.

Olaf soaks it in, sending back grand smiles and tiny waves. Marshal takes it with quiet grace, inclining his head in recognition. Elsa, her jaw muscles jumping, gives a curt nod to the civilians before allowing her eyes to fall to the Queen who, by this point, has dismounted and is approaching her.

When Anna gets close enough, Elsa drops into a stiff, respective bow. Her two officers do the same.

"Your majesty,"—Elsa notices that the cheering dulls, no doubt from people who want to overhear the conversation—"it is a pleasure finally being able to set foot back in Arendelle." She's lying through her teeth, but this is a public scene with the hero whose talents almost singlehandedly won the war. Let the population see their hero and rejoice – let them have their happiness.

Elsa knows how easily it can be taken away.

Hands on her shoulders push her to standing upright, and force her to look down and meet the glowing eyes of the one who used to be hers.

"There's no need to bow." Anna says, a smile lighting up her face. Elsa's lips turn into a thin line.

"On the contrary,"—the officer grits, trying to be polite—"this is a public setting and you are my better. It would be taken in offense if I neglected my place."

Anna barks a laugh; that soft, melodic laughter Elsa had longed to hear for so many years. It never used to fail in lifting her heart. Now it makes her sick.

"Your place? You're a war hero who's in charge of Arendelle's army and you're my friend. You never have to bow to me!"

_Your friend?_ Elsa balls her hands into tight fists. _I haven't spoken to you ever since you informed me of your blasted marriage and you have the audacity to call me your friend? You are my queen and I obey you, but I am far from being anyone you'd want to keep close_.

She doesn't say any of this out loud, of course. Instead she gives a rigid nod that makes Anna beam in delight.

"Good!" Anna says, grinning from ear to ear. "I brought an extra horse for you,"—she glances at the two behind the Marshall—"but I unfortunately didn't bring rides for your two associates."

"That's fine, your majesty – we can walk." Olaf assures.

"If my soldiers walk I walk." Elsa intercedes, her tone brokering no room for argument. Anna frowns and opens her mouth to argue, but one sharp look from Elsa cuts her short. Clearing her throat awkwardly, the redhead says:

"Alright. We'll go at a slower pace so you can keep up with the horses."

Elsa—wanting this interaction to be over and done with—doesn't argue. She knows how it'll look for the grand hero of Arendelle to be marching behind the queen when there's clearly an extra horse, but she doesn't care. Typically she would have taken the offer without regard to whether or not her soldiers marched behind her – she did it all the time in the field. The only reason she didn't do it this time was to prevent anymore unnecessary conversations with her Queen.

Halfway to the castle, Marshal speaks up.

"You didn't have to walk." He says, his low voice rumbling in his chest.

"I know." Elsa clips, keeping her eyes trained front.

Olaf and Marshal are some of the only few who knew her before Anna broke up with her; during the time Elsa would openly express how she's fighting to get back to her love. They where there when everything changed. They were there to witness her walls slam into place and weld themselves together, never to come down again.

So they know Elsa isn't walking to look gallant, and she knows her glaringly obvious use of avoidance is concerning them.

"It's not too late to retake her up on her offer." Olaf says, careful not to say the redhead's name. "I'm sure she wouldn't mind."

"No, but I would." Elsa says, her tone having more bite to it than she originally intended. It has the desired effect, however, and Elsa goes talking free until she has to walk with Anna up the castle steps.

"I have men collecting your luggage and it'll be delivered to your room the moment it arrives." Anna says, walking into the castle that the royal guards have opened. "Your room is on the third floor, which I'll show to you—"

"That's quite alright, your majesty." Elsa says. "I'm sure you have more pressing duties to attend to – surely the maid showing my officers to their rooms can escort me to mine, as well."

"Nonsense!" Anna chirps, not noticing the hateful flicker that briefly sparks in Elsa's eyes as she turns and makes her way to the staircase. Without a word, Elsa follows.

It's an awkward journey with Anna trying her best to strike up a conversation and Elsa trying her best to forcedly squash it. By the time they reach the room Elsa will be staying, a look of uncertain worry mars Anna's face.

"So, here we are." Anna says, stopping and gesturing to the door. Elsa nods curtly.

"Thank you." She says, closing the distance and opening the door.

"Will I see you for dinner?" Anna asks quickly, getting the last word before Elsa can shut her out.

"I wished to examine the barracks and eat with my men, but I will dine with you and your husband if that is what you desire." Elsa, her eyes cold and lifeless, looks over her shoulder to the woman she used to care about more than the whole world. "Do you?" She asks, her voice just as dead as her eyes. Anna visibly shrinks away.

"No, that's fine. I wouldn't want to interfere with your duties."

Elsa nods. "Very well." She shuts the door, leaving Anna alone.

Anna frowns at the door, conflicted emotions crashing in her chest.

This isn't the Elsa she knew and loved. This isn't even a soldier who'd seen too much in war – this is a person who has given up on life, living only by a mindless sense of duty.

That realization hurts Anna more than she'll ever willingly admit.

* * *

The following two days are a disconcerting blur for Anna. Between running the kingdom and taking care of Emily, she sees barely anything of the platinum blond she's been waiting years to reunite with. The longer this time stretches, however, makes Anna cautiously wonder if perhaps the Marshall is purposefully avoiding her. She tried to shake this feeling as a part of her imagination, but the hollow dead cavities that replaced Elsa's once joyful eyes tell Anna a completely different story.

The part of Elsa capable of feeling died during the war.

Anna has as hard time accepting this, but every one of her interactions with the older woman only serves to force her further towards the truth.

In the afternoon of the third day, when the banquet is set to be held, Anna half expects Elsa not to show up.

Amazingly, she does.

Anna almost wishes she didn't.

Elsa enters last – her crisp uniform and perfect posture in stark contrast to the bags under her eyes. She treats every interaction like a negotiation with the enemy, and assumes everyone present holds a dagger behind their back.

The actual eating part of the get-together isn't much better. If Anna thought Elsa was bad when people were just milling around, she is ten times worse when they had possession of utensils – or, in her mind, weapons.

Only a maid coming in with little Emily wailing in her arms is enough to break through the hardened woman.

Or, perhaps she should say 'broke her'.

The tired maid walks up to the queen and whispers; "I'm sorry, your majesty, but we've tried everything and we can't sooth her. Would you perhaps be able to help?"

Sighing and rubbing her temples, Anna nods curtly and takes hold of her child. She stands and turns to address the table. "Sorry about the interruption, but I—" Anna's words die in her throat when her eyes land on Elsa. Others have noticed her, as well. Some just notice the chill.

Elsa, her chest heaving and eyes wide with panic, grips the edge of the table in a white-knuckle grip, her ice hissing as it flash-freezes the immediate area around her hands.

Anna is confused for all of two seconds before the realization hits her.

Elsa – her strong, proud Elsa, is having a flash-back to the fields of war; and all because of the brutal wail of her child.

Trying her best to sooth Emily with a gentle rocking and bouncing, she swallows her heart out of her throat and asks; "Elsa? Are you alright?"

By some miracle her voice comes out steady.

By some misfortune, it makes Elsa worse.

Elsa's eyes, narrowed into slits, snap to Anna – a feral snarl taking the place of her usual tight-lipped frown. Her menacing appearance fades for the briefest of moments as her eyes flicker to the tiny bundle in Anna's arms, but she's pushing her chair half across floor and storming from the room before anyone can fully register the change.

Anna wouldn't be surprised if she was the only one who did.

Blinking, the queen fights the urge to chase her former lover in favour of dealing with a more pressing issue – her crying child.

When Emily is finally settled and she apologizes to the guests about both her early retreat and Elsa's behavior, she sets out to find the haunted woman. She doesn't have to search far.

She finds Elsa pacing back and forth, clenching and unclenching her fists in front of the painting of Joan of Arc.

Anna doubts it was by any coherent thought that the woman's feet brought her here.

"Elsa?" Anna asks, tentatively taking a step forward. Elsa stops dead in her tracks, her back to the queen. Anna, sensing the elder's hackles raising, stops her advance. "Are you alright, Elsa?"

Reliving painful memories must have snapped Elsa's distant behaviour, because she doesn't hesitate to respond with a cruel, condescending laugh.

"'Are you alright', she asks. Tell me, Anna,"—she says, flashing a dangerous look over her shoulder—"do I look anywhere near 'alright', to you?"

Anna can't think of any safe way to respond, so she opts for silence. It doesn't deter the older woman.

Elsa turns so her body is square with Anna's. "I haven't been 'alright' for a long time. Can't you tell? Can't you see how broken my sense of humanity has become?"

Again, Anna chooses to stay silent.

A patronizing smile slides over Elsa's lips. "I had three good years of sanity – three good years of keeping myself together. Then it all changed. My ability to love severed, and with it went my ability to control my powers. Without love I could no longer thaw the assaults I wrought, leaving those bloody spikes to stay for weeks on end until the sun could finally melt them. Without love I could no longer undo the frosty damage I had become so accustom to creating. Without love warming my heart, the bitter chill of my powers took its place."

Elsa pauses here, her hands clenching into fists and her jaw locking, causing her muscles to jump angrily.

With visible effort, Elsa pries her teeth apart and spits; "My heart is freezing over."

It takes Anna a couple seconds to register that information. When she does, she pales. "No." She whispers. "That can't be."

Elsa's eyes, brimming with rage, lock with Anna's. "Is it so absurd a concept?"

"No, that's not—"

"Than accept it!" Elsa shouts, taking Anna aback. Elsa never raises her voice.

Or, at least, she never used to.

Anna's throat clenches in a way that warns her that her eyes will soon well with tears, but she pushes past it. "What happened that damaged your ability to love?"

Elsa's shoulders tighten and she glances away – up at Joan. Clenching her jaw and narrowing her eyes at the painting, she says; "It doesn't matter now."

Dumbfounded and outraged, Anna's posture becomes defensive. "Doesn't ma— of course it matters! If you can identify the cause you can work through it and regain your ability to cherish. You can reverse the effect—"

"Maybe I don't want to linger on the cause." Elsa says, an eerie calm taking over her voice. "Maybe the truth is more painful than the slow death I'm experiencing now. Maybe the thought of an end is more appealing than the thought of a continued existence. Have you ever considered that maybe I _want_ to die, or that part of me wishes I already had?"

Tears burn Anna's eyes, and they fall with every blink of her lashes. Her heart constricts in a way she hasn't experienced since the loss of her parents, and an eerie, deathly chill shivers down her spine.

She's always been scared of losing Elsa, but the Marshall constantly fighting to cling to life had always been a salve to her wounds.

Until this moment, Anna has never experienced the terrifying feeling of truly fearing for Elsa's life.

Unbidden anger erupts like vicious lava in Anna's chest, and her jaw muscles jump in the effort to repress the overwhelming urge to scowl.

"Who did this to you?" Anna snarls, dark vengeance sparking in her eyes. Elsa, her composure returning to normal with eerie ease, stares at the queen with a hollow—yet commanding—expression.

"It's better for both of us if you don't know." The Marshall says, a dead ring lining her words.

"Better if I— fuck you!" Anna spits, gritting her teeth. "I have more right than anyone else in this whole damn kingdom and you know it. Hell, I would still have more right to know even if I wasn't your goddamn queen. So tell me who it was, and I'll make them pay."

One second. Two seconds. Three seconds.

An uneasy feeling settles in Anna's heart as Elsa continues to fix her with a piercing stare, something dark and intangible dancing elusively within her eyes. After what has to be at least a half a minute of tense silence, Elsa hums – a rumble deep in her chest.

"I wonder if you actually care, or if you're only reacting out of habit." She murmurs, more to herself than the other occupant in the room. If it hadn't of been dead silent, Anna wouldn't have been able to hear the words. But she did. Her jaw drops.

"How dare you imply that I don't care! I do – you _know_ I do!"

Elsa fixes her with a cold look.

"Do I?" She asks.

Anna's heart stops. A chill runs through her body and lingers.

_The tone of her voice, it's like she's implying—_

She pales.

Two years. Elsa said she lost her ability to love two years ago. That's when Anna sent the letter that she was marrying Kristoff. That's when Elsa stopped writing her back.

Before Anna can say anything, Elsa winces and brings up a hand to grip at her uniform, right over her heart. Instinctively, Anna steps forward. Instinctively, Elsa steps back.

Her teeth practically grinding together, Elsa leans against the wall beside Joan's frame and weathers the bout of agony coursing through her veins. Through the whole affair, Elsa keeps her pain leaden eyes locked on Anna's – a promise of revenge if the younger woman takes any measures to help her.

When the pain starts to recede, Elsa finds enough strength to strain; "Tomorrow I'm heading back to the Southern Isles." Anna opens her mouth to protest. Elsa narrows her eyes dangerously. Anna's words die in her throat. Elsa continues with; "Unlike you, I refuse to live and die in luxury. Luxury was never a gift given to me, and I refuse to live a lie because you want to correct a wrong that can't be corrected. If it were up to me I never would have came back in the first place, but Arendelle is still my kingdom and I still must obey my superiors. It's not like I'll have to for much longer."

The ice freezing her heart ceases its persistent effort and Elsa pushes from the wall, her posture proud and defiant.

"I will obey you, because you are still my queen, and you can still trust in my undying loyalty to this kingdom – but don't expect me to grovel to sooth the aches of your wrongdoings. As queen you must get used to stepping on people's toes to get what you want. I just happened to be one of those people." Elsa bows at the shoulders. "So long, your majesty. May your reign be long and prosperous."

Turning heel, Elsa walks away.

Anna, overcome with shock, can't bring herself to stop the woman.

Sinking into the couch under Joan's painting, Anna weeps into her hands.

Kristoff finds her sometime later and brings her to her room.

* * *

Elsa, with Olaf and Marshal standing diligently behind her, watch their ship being loaded with keen, diligent eyes. The sun had risen only a couple hours prior, and the city has just started the rushing bustle of their day. The world around the trio is going so fast yet, to them, it feels as though time has slowed.

Or, at least, that's how it looks when Kristoff spots them. A picture perfect moment, frozen in time.

Only these circumstances are less than perfect.

Anna had told the former ice harvester everything last night when she was bawling in his arms. At the end of it, Kristoff found himself fighting the urge to beat Elsa to a pulp—not that he'd be able to get close enough to—and begging the woman to reconsider her surrender to the ice chipping away at her heart.

In the end he chose the only thing that would bring Anna the happiness she's been lacking.

Whether his efforts will do anything, however, is a mystery all on its own.

"Marshall Winter." He greets, stopping a respectful distance away from the trio. Elsa glances at him out of the corner of her eye. A darkness glints across her irises in her recognition of the man.

"Your Grace." She clips, a rough edge to her tone. She turns square to the noble-by-marriage and holds her hands behind her back. "Do what do I owe this pleasure?"

"If my presence is pleasing to you than you must be a sadist." Kristoff throws back. Olaf and Marshal glance to each other awkwardly, before fixing their gaze straight again. Elsa, however, shows no reaction.

"I apologize, your Grace, but I don't know to what you're referring." Her tone, matching her stone cold gaze, makes Kristoff grit his teeth in frustration.

"I think you do."

"Forgive me, your Grace, but—"

"Oh for— I'm her husband and you don't like it."

_That_ got a reaction out of her. Not a big one—just a slight twitching of the eye—but it's enough for Kristoff to register. Olaf and Marshal silently back away, giving the two a semblance of privacy on the busy docks.

"Forgive my bluntness, your Grace, but it doesn't matter whether I like it or not."

"Well, Winter, forgive _my_ bluntness when I say it _does_ matter, because your stupid act of self-sacrifice isn't damn-well helping anybody. If anything, it's making everything worse."

Elsa stares at Kristoff with an unfeeling gaze, as if the man's words don't mean a thing.

Part of Kristoff fears they actually don't.

An uncomfortable amount of time passes until Elsa's chilling voice responds with:

"Funny; I could have sworn it was helping you."

Kristoff blinks, taken off-guard by the sharp retort. He stumbles over his tongue, flustered. "Helping me? Why wou— how could it— no! How would Anna being miserable help me in any way, shape or form? Just the thought is upsetting." Elsa, once again, gives him no physical or emotional reaction. It's eerier than he's willing to admit.

"You have her to yourself, do you not?" Elsa asks, not fazed—at least not outwardly—by the touchy topic.

"What? No— I don't— urh!" Kristoff clamps his mouth shut, runs his hands through his hair, and forces himself to take a calming breath.

In a way Elsa is right – he _does_ want Anna to himself. He loves her and she's his wife – why would he _not_ want her all to himself? What Elsa isn't seeing, however, is the way that she's wrong. If Kristoff really wanted Anna to himself guaranteed, then he wouldn't be here right now. He wouldn't be trying to slap some sense into Elsa's head when, if he left everything alone, would leave him without competition.

So despite Elsa's—accurate—assumption, Kristoff doesn't want her to die. He doesn't want to see Anna's joy permanently ripped from her chest, leaving nothing but a noble monarch in its wake. He doesn't want Anna to become the emotionless shell the woman in front of him has become.

Letting out a low, steady breath, Kristoff starts again – calmer this time. "I don't want the hollowed out Anna that she'll become if you continue on this path. I want the Anna who trips over her own dress in the middle of a ball; the Anna who slides down the hallways in her socked feet just because she can; the Anna who's eyes twinkle whenever she's up to no good and the Anna who snorts whenever she finds something hilarious. Your death would take whatever beaten playfulness she still has left, thereby killing the spark of feisty fire that still burns within her chest. In essence, you'd be killing her will to live."

Elsa stares on passively, letting the seconds ticks by as the man's words settle into the air between them.

Even before the Marshal responses, Kristoff knows his words had no effect.

"I fail to see how this involves me." Elsa says. "This all sounds like personal problems. Why don't you seek out a professional of higher qualifications than mine to aide you?"

The woman's answer really doesn't come as a shock, but it disappoints Kristoff more than he could have anticipated. He hates to admit it, but it makes the optimistic side of himself die a little. This interaction is more tedious than he calculated for, and a huge chuck of himself gives up on the woman. The only reason he doesn't completely is because he knows that doing so would mean giving up on Anna, too.

So with a heavy, aching heart, Kristoff sighs. "You know what, Elsa?" He airs, crossing his arms and leaning against the dock railing. "Sometimes people blame others for perceived falsehoods without looking at the situation from the other direction. You know your side because you've been living and stewing in it for the past two years, but have you ever looked at it from Anna's point of view?

"She loves you—I think we can both openly admit that—but her feelings had dulled without the constant honing they received when you two could meet up whenever you wished. Not only that, but she had no way of knowing if you'd come home alive – so she made an unconscious barrier to protect herself. So with the impact of your love hitting her less combining with that protective shield, her newfound feelings for me overran her feelings for you.

"It took a long time for Anna to accept it, but eventually she did and she made the hard call – the call to choose me over you. She was respectful enough to make sure you knew, but you never responded to it. After two months of no return letter, she started to panic and send you more – none of which you replied to. She thought you were dead, and that's what broke her last reserve she had with me – the physical one.

"She was two months pregnant when the letter came that you had taken over as head of the army, and Emily was only three days old when the letter of the war's end reached us. Anna rejoiced, thinking that meant she could finally see you after four years apart, but no – shortly after that we received your hand-written report on the situation and your decision to stay and overlook the takeover.

"You chose to stay away back then and you're continuing to stay away now when she clearly wants to be with you, and she won't wait forever; she _can't_ wait forever." Kristoff scans Elsa's carefully neutral face. "She loves both of us – she _wants_ both of us. I know part of you is unwilling to share, but I am. The wounds you two have caused each other will take time to heal, but I know that, when it does, the love you two have will override the love she has for me – but I still want to be there for Emily.

"But if you're willing to let go of the only thing you care about – the only thing that can stop the ice in your heart from taking over and killing you, then maybe you never deserved her love in the first place."

Elsa is still—frighteningly still—and giving Kristoff a hard, piercing stare that nearly makes him cower. Right before he gives real thought to the idea, Elsa asks:

"Why are you telling me this?"

The question is so absurdly obvious to Kristoff that he can't help but bark a laugh, soon followed by a gentle, longing smile.

"I've never seen her happy, truly happy, unless she was speaking about you." He whispers, a wistful look taking over his features. "Her face lit up brighter than I knew was possible when she heard of your coming arrival. It hurt to know that I couldn't bring her the joy that you can, but I refuse to take the road of watching you leave—making Anna miserable—just so I can call her mine. I care about her too much for that."

One second. Two seconds. Three seconds.

Kristoff shifts uneasily under Elsa's unwavering stare, and part of him fears that the Marshall is too far gone to take heed to the words. A darker thought warns him that she's incapable of comprehending or, worse, that she simply no longer cares.

A softening around the veteran's eyes, however, tells him a different story.

"I can see why she fell for you." She whispers, a smile of self-depreciation twitching over her lips. "I doubt I would be so generous. What does that say of me?"

Kristoff's eyes soften, and the tension in his shoulders slowly ebbs away. "It means you've lost one too many things and you're scared to lose another. If you'd never gone to war, it's hard to say what type of person you'd be – but this is who you are now. You were asked to give up everything for your kingdom, including your Queen, and you refuse to lose anything else. It's well within your right."

Elsa's eyes flicker to the castle with well-guarded hope, saddeningly so.

"Is it not too late already?" She whispers, more to herself than to the man in front of her.

"It's not too late until you believe it is and give up trying." Kristoff whispers back.

Elsa gives him a look – a very different look to the other ones he's been receiving over the past few days. It's a look that tells Kristoff that, for the first time in two years, Elsa desperately wants to believe in another human being; trust them in a way she has only ever trusted herself.

Only she no longer remembers how.

It makes Kristoff's heart ache.

Kristoff inclines his head to the castle. "Go to her. Talk. It's the only way you'll ever find out for sure."

Once again Elsa turns her head to the castle, a war battling just beneath the surface of her eyes. Olaf and Marshal watch from the safe distance they gave the pair, anxious but hopelessly loyal expressions plastered on their faces. That's when it hits Kristoff.

Elsa surrounded herself with love and care without even realizing that she had.

It proves that some part deep inside of her still yearns for happiness – that piece of her soul she'd lost when she learned her beloved Anna was no longer hers.

She just killed her ability to recognize it.

Kristoff supplies the dying woman with a supportive smile. "She needs you." He whispers. "She just never realized how much until faced with the possibility that you may not be there for her anymore. The least you can do is indulge in your Queen's wish to make up for her mistakes and undo the wrongs she'd unknowingly bestowed upon you."

"So poetic." Elsa mutters, her eyes still solidly fixed on the gray stones of Arendelle's royal castle as if they will give her all the answers she seeks so long as she glares at them long enough.

Kristoff rolls her eyes. "So you'd prefer crude?" He asks. Elsa doesn't answer. That's fine by the king consort. "Fine."—He continues—"Go up there and see if you both mutually want to fuck each other's brains out at some foreseeable point in the future."

Elsa turns to the man with the most emotion he has ever seen displayed on her face. Although the surprised amusement flickers away just as quickly as it came, the woman still arches an eyebrow in recognition of it.

"Is that a royal request?"

Kristoff shrugs good-naturedly, a half smile forming on his lips. "I'll even buy your time by the hour if that's what it takes."

The former ice harvester does not expect the Marshall to bark a loud laugh in response to his ill-mannered joke, nor is he prepared for the shocked stares of the surrounding soldiers because their emotionless leader's laughter or the slight smirk that remains on Elsa's lips; but that is what he receives all the same.

The smirk even lingers for two whole seconds before Elsa schools her features.

"Well,"—she shrugs, talking to herself—"it's not like I have any pressing matters to attend to in the Isles."

Without a farewell, Elsa turns heel and walks away.

Olaf and Marshal jog up, pausing briefly from their engrained sense of duty to follow Elsa without questions or distractions, to turn to Kristoff.

"What did you say to her?" Olaf asks.

Kristoff smiles contently. "Something she's been needing to hear for a long time."

Marshal notices how far away their leader is getting and grunts at Olaf to get a move on. Before he himself runs off after his superior, he nods thankfully to king consort.

"You've done in minutes what Olaf and I haven't been able to accomplish in years. Thank you, friend. This act will not be forgotten." With that, he dashes off without any care to how his words affected the man in his wake.

Kristoff continues to stand on the dock and stare out at the water, a battle raging between his proud dopey grin and the quiet ache in his heart.

* * *

Anna, curled in a ball under the sheets of her bed, quivers and shakes as she cries into her pillow.

Elsa is leaving today. She's leaving without a care that her heart is freezing over—by the Queen's own fault, no less—because the Marshall can't stand to be around the woman who betrayed her.

A tear-leaden sob rips past Anna's throat at the thought.

Elsa is dying because Anna found someone else; because of her own selfish desire to not be alone.

She should have waited. Fuck what she was feeling at the time – _she should have waited_. If she had her former lover wouldn't be dying and unwilling to save herself. She would have Elsa wrapped in her arms, and everything would be okay. Gods above, Anna wished everything could be okay.

But it's not, and she'll never have the chance to make it right.

Her depressing thoughts are interrupted by three sharp knocks on her bedroom door.

"Go away, Gerta." Anna grits, unconsciously wincing and curling the blankets around her tighter at the thought of facing the outside world.

"You need to eat, dear." Gerta says, her voice muffled by the wooden barrier.

"I'll eat when I'm dead." Anna mutters bitterly, too quiet for the other woman to hear. After a stretch of silence she hears shuffling, soft murmuring and retreating footsteps. Before Anna can fully release a breath of relief, however, she hears her bedroom door open. She tenses, her muscles knotting and tightening against her spine. "I said go away." Anna snarls, thanking the heavens that she had the foresight to face her back to the door so the woman can't see her red-rimmed eyes or tear stained cheeks.

The woman hums through her teeth and shuts the door with a quiet _click_. "As hospitable as always, I see." She rumbles, not stepping any farther into the room. Anna's eyes snap open at the voice. Could it be . . .?

Sitting up abruptly, Anna whips around and locks eyes with the regal form of Arendelle's Marshall; from her rigid posture all the way down to the spotless shine of her boots. Tears well in the Queen's eyes at the sight.

"You came back." She whispers, choking back another sob. She makes to get out of bed and rush to the woman, but pauses when she sees the veteran tense at the motion. Not wanting to test what little luck she has left, Anna merely props herself up against her pillows and headboard and readjusts her blankets. She awkwardly clears her throat. "Sorry, I just wasn't expecting to see you again."

Elsa shifts uncomfortably and crosses her arms over her chest. "I could say the same." She admits, a frown tugging at her lips. She glances around the room anxiously, as if trying to give herself excuse to leave.

Anna isn't going to make it easy.

"Oh?" She asks, absently picking at her sheets. "What changed your mind?"

A look of deep, thoughtful concentration takes over Elsa's features, and she zones out. Her mind must have travelled far away, because it takes the soldier a full two minutes before returning her focus to the room.

"Changed my mind about leaving? Nothing." Anna's heart falls into her stomach, but Elsa isn't finished. "As for who changed my mind about when that is, that would be your husband." Elsa shrugs, ignoring Anna's look of shock. "I only promised to postpone until I talked with you, so unless you give me reason to stay I'm heading for the docks the moment I leave this room."

Anna's heart pounds painfully in her chest. She had never dreamed of getting a chance like this, let alone from someone who had blatantly said they never wanted to talk to her again. But something tugs at the young monarch's mind, and she can't help herself from asking:

"Why?" Elsa tilts her head in confusion. Anna explains. "I can't repair a bridge you don't want reconstructed, nor can I help you get over pain you don't want to let go of. I need to know what you were hoping to achieve by coming here, so I know what I can actually help you with."

Elsa's face turns intently thoughtful, mulling over the question like a well thought-out battle plan. After a moment, a frown tugs at the corner of her lips. She continues to think for another minute before conceding:

"I don't know." She admits, shifting awkwardly and stiffly leaning against the doorframe. "Kristoff convinced me to come so I just . . . came. I didn't really have a specific goal in mind. I tried not to think on my decision to meet with you too closely, to be honest." Her light frown digs in a little harder. Anna can almost hear the unspoken; 'it'd cause too many painful memories if I did' behind the action.

"So . . . what?" Anna asks, trying not to overstep her boundaries. "Are we just going to sit here doing nothing until you feel like leaving again?" Elsa shoots the queen an unamused stare.

"We could start with you drinking water so you don't die of dehydration."

The sharp retort makes Anna wince, but she doesn't question the border-line order. Without a word she leans over, grabs the glass beside her bed and downs the liquid in four huge gulps. She sets the glass back on the bedside table and wipes her mouth with her arm.

"Happy?" She grumbles. Elsa's eyes soften before they flick away, focusing instead on something else in the room.

"No." Elsa whispers. "Then again, I don't think I know the meaning of the word." She forces out a breath of air. "I've seen things rebuilt, repaired and revitalized, but I don't think I've seen things get 'happier'. 'Better', perhaps, but that's the extent of it." Elsa's eyes glaze over, her mind fading into thought. "Happiness is as foreign to me as peace."

Anna's eyebrows furrow in confusion. "But the war ended last year."

"No,"—Elsa corrects—"the higher cost to this Kingdom's coffers ended last year. Hostilities between the Isle citizens and your soldiers, on the other hand, still very much exist." She shrugs. "I don't expect you to understand. You were too far removed from the danger to know the difference."

Anna grits her teeth. "That's not fair."

Elsa gives the younger woman a flat look. "Is it not?"

"No, it's not." She points to herself. "I had to listen to reports being rattled off about how many we lost almost every single day and was forced to read the names of all that perished, praying that I didn't see I name I recognized. I had to console families – wives who lost the love of their life, siblings who lost their brothers and children who lost their fathers. I may not have seen any of the fighting, but I damn well had to deal with the consequences."

"You think I didn't?" Elsa snaps. Anna raises her hands in surrender.

"No, that's not what I—"

"I had to see those nameless faces fall before my eyes. I had to force their friends to leave the bodies behind for fear of an enemy taking their life when they were defenseless. I had to hear the broken murmurs of my soldiers and their tortured screams when they woke in a cold sweat in the middle of the night. I had to see families weeping over the dead bodies' of their loved ones in the towns and villages we conquered. When I stayed behind to stitch the nation back together, I had to do it with a lot more chunks ripped from the foundation than what you had taken out here."

In her spout of anger, Elsa had pushed from the doorframe and advanced on the bed. Now standing at the foot of it, the Marshall turns and, with a shout, punches towards the side wall. A spear of ice forms and skewers it. Anna, pushing back painfully into the headboard, pales considerably.

"They had their loved ones taken, their homes destroyed and their freedom taken from them. You think _we_ had it bad? What about th— ah!" Elsa stumbles and grabs hold of one the bed posts with a white-knuckle grip, her other hand clutching at her chest.

Anna stares on, dumbfounded at the sudden change. Elsa lets out a pained whimper, breaking Anna's dazed state. Pushing aside her blankets and scrambling down the bed, Anna pushes to her knees and takes Elsa's head in her arms, cradling it against her chest.

"Shh, it's okay." Anna whispers, hoping her sweet nothings will warm the ice gripping at the elder's heart. Shivers and convulsions still wrack at the woman's form, but she still exhaustedly slumps into Anna's arms faster than expected.

As the residuals begin to wear off, Elsa hesitantly wraps her free arm around the monarch and, after a moment, readjusts her head more comfortably into the crook of Anna's neck. Elsa takes in a breath of the younger's scent and warm memories wash over her like a cruel hurricane. A struggled sob rips past her throat.

"I don't want to die, Anna. Please, don't let me die."

Anna's throat clenches and her eyes well with tears. She squeezes the platinum blond to her chest. "As long as you're with me, I'll protect you." Elsa's clutch on the younger tightens, but her sobs make it impossible to respond. "It's okay." Anna continues. "Just stay in Arendelle and everything will be alright. I promise."

Anna only hopes she can make good on it.

* * *

Six weeks later.

Kristoff and Anna watch from of the other windows as Elsa, sitting in the gardens, awkwardly holds Emily in her arms. Kristoff frowns.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" He asks. Anna sends him a look. He raises his hands. "I'm just saying that it might be a little too soon."

Anna sucks her bottom lip in-between her teeth, gnawing on it gently. "Maybe." She concedes, glancing back out the window. "She seems to be doing well so far, though."

"She looks like she's too scared to move."

Anna slaps the man's shoulder, but silently agrees with him. The strict soldier Elsa has become doesn't know how to deal with something so delicate, and she's a long ways away from tapping into her younger, softer self. This thought is only confirmed when Elsa starts looks around in a panic, unsure of what to do with the now crying child. Anna sighs.

"I'll go down and save her." She turns heel and takes but one step before a hand on her shoulder stops her. She turns to Kristoff, confused. The man in question smiles gently, his gaze cast outside.

"I don't think you need to."

Curiously, Anna walks back to the window and glances out. In the elder's panic, frost had begun puffing out from her fingertips, enchanting the young child in her arms. Elsa, looking relieved, holds the child in one arm to have the other free to perform a small, frosty show in the palm of her hand. Anna smiles tenderly at the sight.

"See?" Anna asks, her affectionate smile growing at the awkward bounding session. "Nothing to worry about."

Deep inside Anna knows that she _does_ need to worry because Elsa is far from healed and is far from being harmless, but she'll take her victories as she wins them. Nothing will ever make those years of bloody warfare go away and Anna can never heal the wounds they wrought, but she's trying. Elsa's trying. Maybe someday this effort will make it easier for them to coexist.

Elsa glances up to the second story window the couple stands at. Anna grins and waves shyly. Elsa's eyes light up, before being overshadowed by darkness and clenched jaw muscles as her eyes flick to Kristoff. She gives the Queen a sharp nod in recognition and turns her attention back to Emily, unable to look at them any longer.

Anna sighs. They have a long way to go. But they're getting there, and that's what matters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still not taking prompts. Still not technically back.


	9. Assassin Elsa and 'Target' Anna, Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Pre-Story': After the events of Part 1, an assassin took out the people who wanted Anna dead. With them out of the way, Elsa's contract with them became void and she openly trashed the deal. Whispers rose from this display, along with Anna—Elsa's target—conveniently walking away relatively unharmed. To keep Anna out of their line of fire, Elsa continued on as if everything was business as usual and, despite her vague promise, didn't attempt to make further contact with the redhead.
> 
> Two months have passed since Anna's problem has been taken care of, and she's not fairing very well. She still has flashbacks to the mentally scarring events Elsa invoked to take her life, and she's finding it hard living without knowing who put out the contract on her killers – because it wasn't her. Kristoff and Rapunzel, growing increasingly concerned as time wears on, force Anna to take a week of vacation with them in hopes to get her back on her feet. They don't know about what happened between her and Elsa, nor do they know she was a contract-bound target.
> 
> Character tags added: Olaf, Mulan and Regina.

"Ta-da!" Rapunzel says, throwing out her arms and spinning to gesture to the room around her. With a grin and tussled hair, she turns back to the two still standing just inside the entrance. "Well, what do you think?"

Anna forces a polite smile, glancing at her surroundings half-heartedly. "It's . . . cosy." She says, and it's not a lie. Oaken's Inn for Weary Travellers has a homey cabin-in-the-woods feeling to it, and it's heated to the perfect temperature. If she had come here before the events of her to-be assassination, she's sure she would have enjoyed it greatly. Now, though, it makes her uneasy.

The last two months have been hard on Anna. Not because of work—though that is certainly a factor—and only partially because of her post traumatic stress. No, the reason she's so bent out of shape is because of the death of Weselton's CEO and board members – the people who wanted her dead. That in and of itself isn't so frightening – if she had actually hired anyone to do it, that is.

After the platinum blond—the assassin never gave her name—left her apartment that night, Anna had thought over all the information she provided. In the end she couldn't bring herself to pay for another person's death, let alone multiple, and decided to spare her friends the same choice by simply not telling them what was happening.

Anna took the assassin's words to heart and made sure to visit everyone she wanted to see. She tied up loose ends and even said parting words – worrying everyone around her. They blamed it on Hans' death and the bombing of her office. It was better if they thought that, so she never corrected them.

At the end of that week when the assassin said she'd reopen the contract for other hit men, however, Weselton Corp was attacked. Again, that wouldn't be so unnerving . . . if the only people killed weren't the contractors for Anna's death warrant. She doesn't know who did it or for what purpose, and she'll never feel safe for her life or her friends until she does – and that likelihood is slim.

Rapunzel's grin falters a little at the quaint response and sends Kristoff a worried look. Kristoff takes up the reins and grins, laying an arm over Anna's shoulders. She winces at the motion, but it's an improvement from outright flinching away.

"Why don't I give you a little tour of the place while Punz goes and gets our room keys?" He asks, nudging her. "It'll be fun." He sing-songs. Anna twitches a smile at his silly antics.

"Sure." She replies. "I don't see why not."

"Brilliant!" Kristoff cheers, his grin spreading from ear to ear as he begins leading Anna away.

The place, despite its outward size, is surprisingly simple to navigate. It's a nice perk, just in case the need to escape arises. She knows any good assassin would memorize the layout even better than she but, even so, it's become a habit for her. At least it would give her a fighting chance. Well, at least that's what she tells herself. In reality she'd be dead too quickly to realize she was even in danger.

Anna winces at the reminder, but keeps herself engaged in the conversation. It's . . . everything's just easier to deal with when she's distracted. Hence why she's been overworking herself lately. Ironically, that's also what made her friends force her to come here.

"So, what do you think?" Kristoff asks, a glowing smile on his face.

Anna blinks; they're done already? She glances around. They're back in the lobby. She checks her watch. Her eyes widen, realizing almost half an hour has passed without her noticing.

"Wow, I didn't realise we'd been gone so long." Anna says. It's the truth, but also a diversion. The people close to her can tell when she's lying, and somehow she figures saying; 'I think this place will lower my guard and get me killed' isn't the best answer. It's best if she simply avoids the question. She's become good at that. Something that hasn't escaped notice.

Kristoff's smile falters for a moment—barely even enough to notice—before he chuckles and rubs the back of his neck. "Sorry about that – I might have gotten a little carried away."

Anna tilts her head curiously. "Have you been here before? You seem very fond of this place."

Kristoff's face softens affectionately as he takes in the decor. "Oaken, the owner, is a family friend. I've been here on many different occasions because of that and, uh, yeah. It's like a second home to me."

A rare, sincere smile graces Anna's lips. "That certainly explains how you knew your way around." She takes another glance around the lobby. "It fits your personality." She whispers, more to herself than to her friend. Does she belong anywhere like how Kristoff belongs here? She used to, she's sure.

Sensing the souring mood, Kristoff gently directs them in the direction of their rooms. "When I booked the rooms, Oaken insisted on giving us the best of the best – even did it at the cost of regular accommodations. I told him he didn't have to but he insisted, and there's no changing his mind once he sets it on something. It's something I love about him."

"That's—" A flash of motion to her right makes Anna freeze. She glances around, fear and anxiety starting their familiar trek through her limbs. Only her fear of Kristoff asking questions makes her swallow her worry and continue walking. "That's great." She grits, no longer remembering what she was even responding to.

Kristoff frowns and slows his pace. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

Kristoff stops, steps in front of Anna and grabs her shoulders. His eyes narrow. "I've had enough of this, Anna. I know something's bothering you. I wanted to give you space and time, but this is getting ridiculous. Please, just spit it out – what's wrong?"

Anna pales.

"I—"

"I'm sorry, I'm afraid I startled her."

If adrenaline wasn't forcing her to stay conscious, Anna would have fainted right then and there.

Kristoff looks over Anna's head and stares at the newcomer with a frown. "Who are you?" He asks.

"An old friend." The voice says, getting closer. "I'm afraid we weren't on the best of terms last we saw each other."

Gritting her teeth and steeling her nerves, Anna turns her head—her body still held in place by Kristoff's hands—to see a woman she never thought she'd see again. A woman she wasn't sure she wanted to see again.

The platinum blond steps up beside the two and Kristoff eases his hold of the redhead. Anna takes the opportunity to step back and half hide behind her bulkier friend. The woman—wearing black cargos, combat boots, a baby blue t-shirt, a black jacket and leather gloves—raises an eyebrow at the action.

Kristoff instantly takes up a protective stance, using his stature to hover over the shorter woman. Anna knows that he would lose if the two came to blows, but the action helps calm her nerves nonetheless.

"Who are you?" Kristoff rumbles, threatening.

"To you? Irrelevant. To her? Invaluable." The assassin replies. She turns her gaze to the frightened CEO. "I'm sorry I couldn't meet with you sooner but I had . . . issues, I had to contend with."

Anna has no desire to figure out what 'issues' the other woman is referring to, and unconsciously hides herself further behind Kristoff's hulking form. A vain attempt at protection. Kristoff puffs out his chest in response.

"Well, she's on vacation right now and isn't dealing with business at the moment. You can go through her secretary like everyone else." He turns, wraps his arm around Anna's shoulders—an action she has to refrain from shying away from—and starts leading her away.

"It's about Weselton Corp." The blond calls after them. Anna freezes. Kristoff grunts when suddenly faced with the immovable force.

Anna weighs her options carefully. She knows very well that this might just be a ploy to get her alone, but the assassin didn't have to show her face to do that. Anna knows from experience that the blond could have snuck up on her when she was defenceless without even breaking a sweat, so why—

 _What if someone else put out a contract on my head?_ Anna thinks, her heart suddenly thrashing wildly in her chest.

"Anna?" Kristoff questions worriedly.

"I'm going to stay here and talk. I'll meet you and Punz in half an hour in the outside lounge area." Anna says. Kristoff frowns, narrowing his eyes at the woman he's never seen before. He doesn't trust her.

 _That's okay._ Anna thinks _. I don't trust her either._

"Are you sure?" He whispers.

"No, but it's . . . complicated." Anna glances back to the blond, who looks as stoic as ever. Anna sighs softly through her nose, accepting her decision. "I'll be fine." _Probably._

Kristoff hesitates. Anna doesn't blame him. After a moment, the hulky guy nods.

"Alright, but I'm a call or text away if you need me, alright? So is Punz."

_Last time I had Punz on the phone when I needed her, Blondie over there threatened to murder her along with everyone I love. So no, I won't._

"Sure thing." Anna lies, twitching a pitiful little smile – a sad attempt at reassurance.

Before Kristoff can try to change her mind again, Blondie steps forward and gently takes Anna by the elbow—causing an unconscious flinch in the redhead—and leads her away. Blondie watches the redhead out of the corner of her eye for the entirety of the journey, but Anna can't read anything from the attentive orbs.

Anna half expects the assassin to drag her into a broom closet or an empty room but, to her surprise, she's lead to the outdoor pool. Blondie picks the furthest seats from the other people and settles down, uneasily glancing at their surroundings. Anna takes a moment to take note of this before sitting down herself.

"Why here?" She can't help but ask.

"There's people." Blondie grunts, narrowing her eyes at someone getting a little too close for comfort. When they pass, Anna notices the tension—probably enough to snap bone—built up in the assassin's jaw. She wonders why, but doesn't have the courage to address it.

"So you wanted witnesses as proof you wouldn't . . . do anything?" Anna questions instead.

Blondie twitches a barely there smile. "Something like that." She says, her smile fading away as quickly as it came. "It's more for me, to be honest. I don't have the best standing right now amongst my peers." She glances at the CEO out of the corner of her eye. "I believe I explained how dangerous falling out of favour in my profession can be the last time we were together, did I not?"

Anna stiffens.

Blondie sighs softly through her nose and allows her eyes to wonder again. This time, though, Anna can see the alertness for what it is – her constantly being on guard for attempts on her life.

Clearing her throat—to try to clear the lump that's formed there—Anna forces; "So, uh, how did you . . . uhh." She frowns and furrows her eyebrows, trying to find a phrasing that won't offend the assassin. "Fall out of favour?" She settles with. Blondie twitches her shoulders; her version of a shrug.

"I've been accused of breaking the honour bond of a contract by using my knowledge to take out a contractor without consent."

Anna frowns. "Accused? Are you implying that you're being hunted for something you didn't do?"

Blondie barks a short, airy laugh. "Oh no, I definitely did it – they just didn't have any proof. They still don't, actually, but putting two and two together wasn't exactly that hard." The assassin grimaces. "It was painfully obvious, unfortunately. I had been acting out of character for almost two weeks before it happened, and then I pretended as if everything was business as usual." Her gaze darkens. "A mistake on my part."

Anna stares at the blond, confused. What would compel her to do the thing she had specifically told Anna she wanted to avoid at all costs?

"I'm afraid I don't understand." Anna says, slowly.

Blondie glances at her out of the corner of her eye. "What isn't there to get?"

"Why you did it." Anna says. Blondie winces, but otherwise doesn't respond. "I mean,"—Anna continues—"you were very clear the last time we talked that you didn't want to get on the bad side of your . . . associates. What made you throw all that out the window and do it anyway?"

Blondie clenches her teeth and glowers at the opposite wall. Anna watches the woman's jaw muscles jump and spasm, before determining that she isn't going to answer. With a sigh, Anna looks up to the sky.

"Why did you come to me? You're putting me in danger by being here." Anna says. She gives Blondie a sidelong look. "Unless that's what you're counting on."

"You were already in danger." Elsa grits, trying to talk through her still locked teeth.

Anna instantly goes rigid. "What do you mean?" She asks, panic starting to leak into her voice. "Is there another contract out on me? Is—"

"No." Blondie spits, pinching the bridge of her nose. "There's been no other contracts issued for your head. You're in danger because of me."

One second. Two seconds. Three se—

"Wait, what?"

"The other . . . people like me have been trying to take me down for almost two months and haven't gotten anywhere near me." Blondie explains. "Since the tracking approach isn't working, they've decided to go after an easier target in hopes of luring me out."

"Okay." Anna says, confused. "That still doesn't explain why are they going after me."

Blondie pauses, obviously thinking of the gentlest way of delivering her answer. Anna steels herself.

"Anna,"—Blondie says; Anna starts at her name rolling off the older woman's tongue—"which contractor do you think I went after?"

Anna frowns. "How would I—"

"Let me rephrase." Blondie interrupts. "How are you still alive when you didn't take my advice to hire someone?"

"A bomb went off in the Weselton board room during a meeting." Anna answers, her heart plummeting in realization. Despite her surety, however, she still waits to hear it from the blond's lips.

"A familiar scenario to one you endured yourself, is it not?" Blondie asks. When Anna continues to remain silent, Blondie sighs. Quietly, she whispers; "Only two people other than you and I knew who hired me, and they were both out of the country. Since you were with your father that whole weekend and there were no contracts out on the victims' heads, that only leaves one suspect." Blondie gestures vaguely to herself, a deep exhaustion seeping into her features.

While Anna feels like she should be grateful, a nagging uncertainty pulls at her thoughts.

"Why?" She whispers, drawing Blondie's inquisitive gaze.

"What do you mean, 'why'?" The blond asks. "Is it not obvious?"

"No,"—Anna says—"it's not. You had no intention of helping me after giving me the information I needed to order a hit, so what changed?" Blondie's jaw clenches – a prominent trait that signals her unwillingness to answer. Anna won't let her get off that easy. "Seriously, I want to know." Anna presses, turning to the older woman. "What could have possibly changed your stance on such an ingrained belief to make—"

"You didn't hire anyone." Blondie snarls, taking the redhead offguard. The blond is far from shouting, but the contained ire almost makes Anna wish that she was. The assassin glares at the smaller girl, sharp attentiveness crackling in her eyes. "I gave you a fucking golden ticket; I gave you freedom on a goddamn platter and you pushed it aside like a discarded childhood toy."

Blondie leans forward, a broken darkness swirling behind her irises. "So, all things considered, I should have let you die. I should have stepped back and let your brains splatter on the fucking pavement for ignoring the freedom I offered you." She looks away with a scowl. "But I didn't." She rumbles, barely loud enough for Anna to hear. She gives the redhead a hard, wary look. "I choose my words carefully, Anna; meaning I don't say anything with lacking importance. So—since you seem to remember our last encounter so well—tell me what I could have possibly said that can explain why I would do this."

Anna frowns, scouring the memory for any indicator of what the blond might be referring to. She relived this quiet back-and-forth less than she did the more violent encounters, but she still relived it over a hundred times. If any hint like that was present, wouldn't she have already picked it up and put two and two together? What—

Anna's eyes widen as she comes across a line the assassin might be referring to. It was hardly a promise of protection—which explains why she never gave it merit before—but it was the only thing that could possibly fit the criteria.

"You said you wanted to keep my death off your conscious."

Blondie hums in approval. "Bingo."

"But you . . ." Anna's frown deepens. "You didn't know me. Why would you go to such lengths for a stranger?"

"You weren't a stranger." Blondie refutes. "I knew everything about you. Everything except who you were in person, that is – I was aware of your personality and how you treated people, but it didn't really matter to me beyond predicting your movements." The assassin sighs softly through her nose. "Then I met you." She murmurs, leaning her head back to gaze at the cloudless sky. "Your cries slashed straight at my heart; your smile warmed my chest and your look of defeat when you thought it was all over . . . crushed me.

"I couldn't kill you." Blondie continues, running a frustrated hand through her hair. "That in itself should have warned me to get out before you started to mean more than just a wrongfully targeted innocent, but I didn't. Couldn't. In the time it took for me to explain everything you had burrowed your way into my head and I couldn't get you out. A few days later I realized that I cared about you – not in the 'you deserve better' type way, but the 'I found an abandoned puppy and adopted it' type way."

Anna giggles at the weird comparison. Blondie gives her a look at of the corner of her eye, but it isn't harsh – just filled with sad acceptance.

"I couldn't make it go away." Blondie continues, flicking her gaze elsewhere. "I tried—believe me, I tried—but the idea of you dying gradually started hurting me more and more until it reached an unbearable extent. The day before I said I'd annul the contract, I secretly checked in on you and . . . found out you didn't hire anyone." Blondie squeezes her eyes shut, her face contorting in pain. Anna watches the transformation in fascination, not daring to interrupt.

"It infuriated me, but it also upset me." The assassin whispers. "My chest caved in and I— I couldn't breathe. I couldn't imagine the world without your smile blinding unsuspecting pedestrians,"—Anna snorts; Blondie twitches a barely-there smile before it quickly fades away—"nor could I bare the guilt I would feel everyday for not preventing it. So I prevented it." She shrugs. "Now I'm just continuing to prevent it."

A watery smile spreads over Anna's lips and she pulls the blond into an awkwardly positioned hug. "Thank you." Anna whispers to the stunned killer, burying her nose into the crook of the elder's neck. "You have no idea how much this means to me."

Blondie shifts uncomfortably. "Uhh, you're welcome?" She questions, inelegantly patting Anna's back at a poor attempt at comfort while trying to keep most of their bodies as far apart as possible. It makes Anna grin uncontrollably.

After a few more awkward seconds, Blondie clears her throat.

"It's almost time for you to meet up with your friends. You better get going."

Anna pulls away—keeping her hands on the assassin's shoulders—and cocks her head curiously. "Where will you go?"

Blondie shifts, an uneasy frown marring her features. "Close enough, within reason." Her gaze flicks up, locking her eyes with the redhead's. "I won't interfere with your life any more than I already have, I can assure you. I just came out in the open today to inform you as to what's going on so that . . ." Blondie looks away with a barely-there shrug. "I don't know." She breaths. "Maybe I was hoping you'd stop looking so miserable."

Anna's heart flutters in her chest. "H-how long have you been watching over me?"

"I never really stopped." The assassin confides. "It wasn't until recently that my observation went from being checkups to constant surveillance." She gives the CEO a sidelong glance, switching back to the previous topic. "I figured knowing what was going on would help your infectious cheer return." Her gaze flickers away. "Everybody's noticed its absence, you know – even the press. Since I was the only one who held the answers the questions you were secretly harboring, I felt obligated to give them to you."

Anna takes a moment to soak that in.

 _Jesus, I never thought my life would be this complicated_.

With a soft sigh through her nose, Blondie stands up. Anna knows the woman is bidding farewell before the words even leave her mouth.

"I'll let you get back—" Blondie pauses and raises an eyebrow as Anna scrambles to her feet. "—And get going." She finishes, elongating her words in bemusement.

"Come with me." Anna blurts. Blondie's eyebrows disappear into her hairline. Anna backtracks. "I-I mean, you don't have to; but wouldn't it be easier to protect me if you remained at my side?"

"No." She says, slowly. "It would just paint an easy target on my head."

Anna gestures to herself. "Well I already have one of my own, and it's not like I can protect myself!"

Blondie's eyes flash with amusement Anna doesn't feel.

_What's so funny?_

"You're only in danger when you're alone." The blond says, her lips twitching upwards. "Otherwise you have nothing to worry about – I can only be lured into the open while you're still alive, after all." Blondie ruffles Anna's hair gently. "You're safe." She whispers. "I know when I need to be far away and I know when I need to be close by – I've been in this business for a long time. Just trust me, alright? You'll get out of this alive and well, I promise."

Something intangible tugs violently in Anna's chest, and it suddenly becomes very hard to breathe.

 _She has no intention of getting out of this alive_.

Anna clamps a hand around Blondie's arm as she makes to leave. Even though the assassin could easily get out of the hold, she merely tilts her head in question.

"Okay." Anna says, her throat dry. She swallows. "B-but can you at least have lunch with me and my friends?"

Blondie's eyes harden. "Meeting me will endanger them. Knowing me would put them—"

"How? _How_ will seeing your face do _anything_ when I don't even know your fucking name?" Anna shouts, louder than intended. Blondie winces. Anna does, too. "Sorry." She whispers, after the curious eyes around them turn away.

"That . . . that's fine." Blondie says, shuffling her feet uncomfortably. They stand in silence for a solid minute before Anna takes a step back and releases her hold on the other woman's arm.

"Sooo,"—she says, rubbing the back of her neck—"I suppose this is our probable goodbye, then?" Blondie glances away and tightens her jaw. Anna tries clearing the lump out of her throat. "Well, thank you for . . . well, everything. I wouldn't be standing here without you and I want you to know that I'm eternally grateful for that. If there's ever anything you need of me, all you have to do is ask and I'll do it, okay?"

Blondie's jaw clenches further, but she gives a tight nod in response. Anna twitches a regretful smile and turns heel, walking away. Her heart tightens with every step she takes and her brain screams at her to stop, but she doesn't.

When she reaches the hall and turns to head to the outdoor lounge, she glances back . . . but Blondie is already gone.

It hurts her more than she'll ever willingly admit.

* * *

Elsa is over the gate of the rural property and trekking her way through the woods when her feet bring her to a halt. It's not her bruised ego or her aching heart that make her do so, but a footprint.

The thing is that the walking trails are on the other side of the hotel.

With a frown, Elsa pulls out her earpiece and connects.

"Olaf, talk to me." She says as she adjusts the device in her ear.

" _About the heartwarming display with Anna or_ —"

"Assassin movements." Elsa grits. Olaf chortles and she hears him typing away on a keyboard.

Olaf was Elsa's agent for almost five years. When she fell out of favour the affectionate man offered his talents to her disposal. Elsa doesn't know exactly what Olaf expected her to use him for, but he didn't seem worried at all about her abusing him. Maybe it had something to do with him knowing she spared Anna's life.

 _At the expense of ten others_. Her mind reminds her, but she promptly pushes it aside. They were scum, anyway.

" _Elsa_." The note of panic in Olaf's voice make Elsa's heart drop into her stomach. " _The entire hotel is being surrounded – they must have known you were going to expose yourself, or caught sight of you on the security feed. You need to get out of there_."

"What about Anna?" Elsa asks, her legs frozen in place.

Olaf hesitates just long enough for Elsa to catch it. " _She'll be_ —" He pauses again, before sighing. He knows better than to try to fool Elsa. "She's _with them, so it's hard to say. If she's fed up of chasing you Anna will be taken hostage, if her patience still remains her forces will disperse and Anna will be left alone. For now_."

Elsa grits her teeth and turns heel, sprinting back the way she came. "She never had patience." She growls, deftly making her way through the obstacles underfoot and around her. "How long do I have to get Anna out of there?"

" _Less time than it'll take to get to her_."

"Fuck." Elsa growls, scaling the hotel's perimeter gate and quickly moving through the shadows. "Olaf,"—she clips, clenching her teeth as she avoids the prying eyes of both humans and security cameras—"is Anna still with her friends in the outdoor lounge?"

" _Let me check_." Olaf says. Elsa hears the click of keys as the man works to hack into the hotel's security footage. " _Got it_." He declares, still clicking away. " _Aaand . . . yes; she's in the outdoor lounge with two others_."

"Kristoff and Rapunzel." Elsa murmurs, pressing her back into a corner as someone passes her. She goes unnoticed.

" _Excuse me? I didn't quite catch that_." Olaf says.

"Nothing." Elsa breathes, continuing on her way. "How's everything looking?" Elsa hears a rustling of fabric and, knowing the lanky man, translates it into a shrug.

" _So far they're being left al— hold on_." Olaf cuts himself off, unease working its way into his voice. " _Yup, that's definitely an approaching lackey. Looks like Regina is getting tired of your games_."

Elsa grits her teeth and picks up her pace. "I wasn't the one playing a fucking game." She spits. "What's he doing?"

" _Walking up to them_." Olaf says, his frown evident in his tone. " _He's greeting them and— okay, now he's turning his attention to Anna. She looks confused. He's handing her something, she's reading it . . . well shit, whatever's on that thing shocked her pretty— fuck!_ " Elsa can hear his fingers flying over his keys. Elsa's heart drops.

"Olaf, what's going on? Talk to me!"

" _They cut the security footage_." Olaf grits.

Elsa can feel the harsh palpations of her heart against her ribcage as her anxiety sky rockets. Reaching behind her and whipping out her pistol—adorned with a silencer—Elsa flicks off the safety and barrels towards her destination.

"How many civilians were in the lounge?" Elsa asks, wanting to know what type of situation she's going to be barging in on.

" _Oddly enough, none. No one is soon to interrupt, either – they have guards blocking all the possible ways of getting to that area_."

Elsa jumps over the body of a guard she shot during his spiel.

"Yeah."—She mutters—"I figured out that much." She rounds the corner and fires two more silent rounds, taking out yet another two of Regina's henchmen.

She barges into the outdoor lounge just as she hears Anna scream in protest.

"Hey!" Elsa shouts, sprinting towards the men surrounding Anna's table. Two have Kristoff restrained, one has Rapunzel restrained and two are trying to control a very feisty red head. Elsa almost smirks at the sight.

Instead she disposes of the two touching Anna and the one pinning Rapunzel to the table. One of the men holding Kristoff let go to face her head on. Elsa jumps, grabs the man and twists him in front of her as her rear comes in contact with the table. A sniper shot blasts through the air and kills her human shield. She lets go of him—still sliding back as she is—spins, kicks the remaining lackey in the face and lands on her feet on the other side of the table.

"Quickly!" She shouts, dashing for the door. "Follow me!"

To her relief, they actually listen to her.

Crashing through the door and shooting the shocked guards on the other side of it, Elsa starts running in a random direction. She prays the other three are still following her.

Pulling a clip out of her pocket and quickly changing it for the empty one in her pistol, Elsa pushes into the closest open room. She grinds her foot into the ground for a sudden stop to whirl around and grab the door.

"Hurry up!" She shouts, gritting her teeth as the three targets struggle to catch up with her. She kills a pursuer that's hot on their heels, but otherwise conserves her ammo as the three rush into the room. Elsa slams the door shut behind them and pushes the heavy vanity in front of it.

With heavy but controlled breaths, Elsa walks to the bed and sets her gun on it before setting about digging things out of her various pockets. The only acknowledgment she gives to the three innocents is a sharp; 'close the curtains.'

As Elsa continues digging objects out of her pants, pounding starts sounding on the door. Everyone—except Elsa—starts at the noise.

"Okay." Rapunzel finally speaks up, her voice shaking. "What the hell is going on?"

"Yeah." Kristoff pipes in, fuming. "And who the fuck are you?"

Elsa clenches her jaw, ignoring Kristoff and setting about putting together the various pieces she's thrown on the bed. "Snowman,"—she barks, using Olaf's code name—"what's my status?"

Kristoff frowns. "What?"

" _I don't know_." Olaf responds, still attached to his computer. " _I'm still working on hacking into Regina's frequency to figure out what they're up to, and security footage is still static. You're going to be operating in the dark until I can get something, I'm afraid_."

"Operating in the dark isn't an option." Elsa growls, finishing one part of the object and moving on to the next. "That snipe shot would have hit my heart had I not of had the sense to protect myself. Only an assassin could have that accuracy on a moving target, and only a highly trained one could have shot with such confidence. I don't stand a chance against if the High Queen has a crew of elites with her, especially when I have charges to protect."

Rapunzel looks to Anna, confused. "Who is she talking to?"

"' _Charges to protect'?_ " Olaf questions, sounding amused.

Anna shakes her head, just as lost as her friend. "No idea."

"Just get a fucking visual." Elsa snarls, clicking the last piece of the second half of item into place. She puts the two pieces together.

" _Aye aye, boss_."

"I thought you said I was safe?" Anna asks hesitantly, sounding uncertain as to whether or not she's interrupting another conversation.

Elsa finally turns to the three who find themselves in her care. Blue eyes lock with teal, and Elsa's face softens.

"You were suppose to be." She whispers, turning her attention back to the device she's been putting together and straps it to her belt. She tucks her gun in the back of her pants.

"What . . . what happened?" The strawberry blond questions meekly.

"Honestly?" Elsa asks, glancing back to the CEO. "I wish I—"

The window shatters, a figure in black coming in with it. Elsa's eyes widen.

"Everyone get out of the way!" She shouts, lunging forward and engaging with the enemy assassin.

The moment Elsa sees the woman's face she knows she's fucked.

Mulan, probably the only person better at martial arts then herself, smirks. She blocks Elsa's oncoming attack and slams her foot into the taller woman's side.

"Why hello, Elsa, it's been a while, hasn't it?"

* * *

Anna's heart beats wildly in her chest, so much so that it hurts.

Blondie—or Elsa, as the Asian woman said—fights admirably against a foe who holds an obvious advantage over her. Anna can hear the bruising hits with an ever present worry that one of them will land just right and end it all.

"Anna." Rapunzel sobs, sliding to the floor and pushing herself back into the closest corner. "What's going on? Why is this happening?"

Anna grits her teeth, tears stinging her eyes. This isn't a topic she's comfortable divulging information about, but what choice does she have? It's not like keeping the information to herself will protect them – they've already been caught in the cross hairs and have already seen people killed before their eyes.

Anna desperately tries to ignore the fact that Blond— Elsa, was the one who gave the final blows.

"The Weselton Corp CEO and board of directors hired an assassin to get rid of me." Anna starts, a lump forming in her throat. She swallows thickly, as her voice draws her friends—almost—undivided attention. "Elsa was the one who was hired." She says, gesturing weakly to the dueling pair and wincing as the aforementioned woman cries out in pain. "She . . ." Anna pauses, not wanting to say anything that could be used as ammo against Elsa if the other assassin somehow picks up on her words.

It's strange that she cares about that, considering the damage the woman has done to her.

 _Then again_ , her inner voice intervenes, _if it had been anyone else I would be dead right now. She may not be the best person in the world, but she actively chose not to kill me and now she's risking her life to protect not only me, but my friends, as well. With the life she lead up to meeting me it's a miracle, and I have to honour her for turning her back on everything she knew for_ me. _It might not seem like it with her actions, but she's protecting me in the only way she knows how_.

"She decided against it in the last moment." Anna sticks with. "She told me to have quality time with the people I loved, because someone else would be going after my head before the week's end. I did as she said, constantly on guard for when the final blow to finally come but . . . it never did. I suspect it has something to do with the Weselton board room bombing, but I can't know for sure. Elsa came to meet with me today to check in with how I was doing."

Kristoff frowns, one eye still focused on the fight happening not meters away from them. "She said you two didn't part on the best of terms the last time you met. What happened?"

Ah, to lie or to tell the truth?

"Any meeting with the one who was hired to kill me and resulted in the death of a close colleague and the destruction of my office is bound to have negative feelings attached." Anna says, deciding to stick with a half-truth.

 _No need to worry them about the specific circumstances surrounding the incident, especially not in our current predicament_. Anna reasons.

"So,"—Rapunzel starts, still shaking hysterically—"are you two friends now, or . . .?"

Anna frowns. Who is Elsa to her, exactly?

_I mean, I know it's obvious that she's determined to protect me but— I— for fucks' sake – I didn't even know her goddamn name until this freaky Asian chick smashed through the window to beat my savo— saving grac— protec— Elsa into a bloody hunk of dead flesh. I know nothing about her!_

_You know what she's willing to do to protect you_. Her inner voice whispers in response to her mind's rambling.

That's . . . true; Elsa gave up everything she knew to save her.

But does that really mean she's a person Anna should be spending time with?

 _She just killed over eight people in under three minutes without even batting a fucking eye!_ Anna's sense of reason screams at her. _What the hell do you think is going to protect you from meeting the same fate?_

 _It's as Elsa said in your first conversation with you – if she had the will to kill you, she would have done it a long time ago_. Anna's heart refutes.

Anna groans and rubs her temples, far from being in the mood to tolerate the daily back-and-forth between her logic and emotions.

The Asian woman screams, immediately drawing Anna's focus.

Elsa, huffing and puffing and sporting more than a few shiners, pulls the device she had put together earlier away from the shorter woman's neck. The woman drops like a sack, shaking. Elsa bends down, pulling back her fist for a paralyzing blow.

Anna slams her eyes shut and turns away. She's seen way too much blood and violence already to willingly subject herself to more.

"Wait!" The foreign voice shouts, their voice strangled. "The High Queen wants to make a deal with you!"

Silence.

Not hearing any sounds other than the Chinese woman's heavy breathing, Anna cracks open an eye to behold the scene of . . . Elsa hesitating?

The platinum blonde grits her teeth, seriously debating as to whether she should hold any merit to the other woman's words. Taking the opportunity, Anna takes a hesitant step forward.

"Elsa,"—she says, her voice shaking—"please hear her out." Elsa doesn't look her way, but Anna can see the blond bristle angrily under her words.

"You don't know what she's capable of." Elsa snarls, pulling her fist back farther. "I can't take the risk."

" _I_ took the risk when Ididn't know what _you_ were capable of!" Anna shouts. She frowns. "Well, technically I knew you were capable of killing me, which really should have been a natural deterrent at the time, but—"

"Anna." Elsa grinds, looking a second away from doing in her fellow assassin. Anna raises her hands in a pacifying motion.

"Okay,"—the redhead soothes—"all I'm saying is that maybe you should hear this High Queen out. The only other option is to run and keep on running. Do you honestly want to do that?"

She neglects to say that Elsa would have to also keep up her impossible juggling act of keeping Anna safe, but Blondie seems to hear it nonetheless.

"Fine." Elsa spits, jumping away from the downed assassin. "Speak." She demands. The Asian smirks, shakily pushing up to one elbow. Elsa sneers.

"Before I do anything, I just wanted to say that I think the taser was a little excessive." The woman says. Elsa growls. The woman raises her free hand in a placate manner before slowly moving it to her pocket. Elsa tenses, ready for anything.

To Anna's surprise, the assassin pulls out a small in-ear communication device; much like the one Elsa—and, upon closer inspection, the Asian as well—already dons.

Elsa narrows her eyes in suspicion, but catches the earpiece with the other woman throws it to her. Blondie reluctantly puts it in her free ear.

"What do you want, _High Queen?_ " The venom in Elsa's voice is enough to make even the other assassin shrink away.

The incessant banging on the door abruptly halts.

Anna only has a second to enjoy the silence.

"Cut the shit and tell me what you want." Elsa snaps. She listens for a moment. "Why?" She asks, her voice suspicious. "Who's death is the gun linked to?"

Anna frowns. _What the hell are they talking about?_

Apparently her friends are wondering the same thing, if their confused glances in her direction are anything to go by. Anna just shrugs helplessly – she doesn't know any more than them, after all. Well, technically—

" _Who?_ " Elsa chokes, her eyes growing wide. "That's— that's fucking insane!"

Whatever the High Queen says in response obviously isn't something Elsa wants to hear, if her instant glower is any indicator.

Anna suddenly desperately wishes she knew what was being said.

* * *

"That's— that's fucking insane!" Elsa says, her heart beating wildly in her chest.

" _Any more insane than what you're already doing?_ " Regina asks, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Elsa glowers instantly, directing it to the only woman in the room she can rightfully turn her anger towards – Mulan. Mulan twitches a dark smirk in response.

"What I'm doing has nothing to do with—"

Regina barks a condescending laugh. " _What you're doing has_ everything _to do with—_ "

"No,"—Elsa growls—"it doesn't. It has everything to do with what you suspect I _did_ , because what I'm _doing_ is in direction retaliation to your subsequent actions."

Regina tsks', as if she were talking to an ignorant child.

It makes Elsa wish the woman was in front of her so she could punch the woman in the face.

" _There's not much need for suspicion when the answer is obvious_." Regina berates, chuckling threateningly. " _But your—most definite—actions are not in question at the moment; the deal I presented you, however, is_."

"Do you think I'd submit myself from one deadly chase to another?" Elsa snaps.

" _You're already a dead man walking._ " Regina says, her tone bored. " _The only difference will be that you'll be cutting out the probable collateral damage of your . . . pet, and her associates_."

That . . . gives Elsa pause. She glances over to Anna, meeting the gaze of the terribly scared and confused woman whom she gave her word of protection.

Elsa knows getting national press accusing her of a murder she didn't commit isn't any better than being hunted by the elite stealth operatives she's come to know, but it's not any worse, either. On one hand she'll be hunted worldwide by police, armies, bounty hunters and more—people she can easily deal with if not overwhelmed by daunting numbers—and on the other she'll forever be on the hit list of a growing group of assassins.

While all that in itself doesn't really bother her—she could deal with either or quite effectively, after all—the added element of Anna and her friends . . . complicates things.

Elsa pinches the bridge of her nose, hard.

" _Ah ha!_ " Olaf says, in her other earpiece. " _I've finally patched myself into all the High Queen's communications!_ "

 _That's great, but pretty much redundant by this point_. Elsa thinks, restraining the urge to roll her eyes.

" _Well?_ " Regina asks, getting impatient.

Elsa opens her mouth to answer, when a subtle clicking in her newest technological addition gives her pause.

"There's a bomb in this earpiece." Elsa deadpans, her eyebrows falling into an unamused line. Mulan raises an eyebrow in surprise, but Elsa can't tell if it's with a 'how'd you know' or 'what took you so long to realize' implication. Elsa doesn't catch the range of reactions from the three civilians in the room.

Regina cackles heartedly. " _Only enough to leave you brain dead, dear_." She assures. " _Typical procedure, you understand_."

 _Nothing with you is 'typical procedure', but I'll go along with it_. Elsa thinks, shaking her head.

"Okay." Elsa says, getting down to business with a grave tone. "I will accept your terms, so long as you make a bond promise in return." Mulan's eyebrows disappear under her bangs.

Regina hesitates. Not for long, but just long enough for Elsa to catch it. " _That depends on what obligation you want me to bind myself to_." The High Queen says, slowly.

"Who is patched into this channel, the one we're using right now?" Elsa asks.

" _Presently it's just you and me. Why?_ "

"I want you to patch in all the assassins. I want them all to hear my terms and, if you agree, all of them will hold you to your word and there will be no backing out."

Elsa can almost see the frown digging into the older woman's lips, but she doesn't relent. This is the only way she'll take the fall for the botched clean-and-untraceable assassination op against an Arab royal.

It's ironic in a way, considering Elsa herself was hired a few years back to take out victim's fiancée. Aladdin, was it? Point being, Elsa made it look natural; giving no one any cause to suspect foul play.

Maybe it's the universe's way of making her take responsibility for the horror she's wrought.

" _Arrows, patched in_." Merida.

Well, that explains the accuracy of the snipe shot earlier.

"Ping, patched in." Mulan.

Elsa gives the Asian across from her an amused look. She never quite got over that code name.

" _Bookworm, patched in_." Belle.

That . . . certainly explains the cameras. Belle doesn't take active field work very often anymore—too boring, evidently—but when she does, well, you'll never know what hit you.

" _Hercules, patched in_." Megara

 _Wow._ Elsa thinks, her eyes widening. _I can't remember the last time this many assassins banded together for a singular purpose_.

" _That's everyone._ " Regina says, eager to get this over with. " _Now spit out your conditions and I'll see what I think about them_."

" _Eh?_ " Merida questions. " _I think I'm missing something, here_."

" _Stay quiet, Arrows. The same goes for the rest of you. We're wasting time and Ice Queen insists on demanding something of me with all of you listening._ "

Someone snorts, but doesn't say anything. It's probably Merida.

Elsa takes a calming breath. "In order for me to take hold of the pistol responsible for Princess Jasmine's death—"—Anna, her friends and Olaf gasp, but Elsa ignores them—"—and give you the prints you need to frame me, I need the High Queen to make an honour bound verbal contract. She needs to agree to give Anna—along with her friends and loved ones—complete and utter immunity to bounties, assassin contracts, private contractors and any purposeful actions aimed towards them that prove fatal or permanently damaging. What do you say?"

Mulan stares at the blond with wide eyes. Upon looking around the room, she finds the same look of astonishment written on everyone else's face. Anna's look, however, is filled with a horror Elsa can't quite understand.

" _Elsa, no – please don't do this_." Olaf begs. " _There's no guarantee that she'll keep to her word, even if she does agree_." Elsa ignores him.

" _Hmm. Interesting_." Regina hums. An crack of merciless victory seeps into her voice. " _Fine. After you complete your end of the deal to plant your prints on the aforementioned pistol, I verbally bind myself to protect Anna, her friends and her loved ones from bounty hunters, assassins, contractors and morons stupid enough to attempt to do them harm. Satisfactory?_ "

Elsa grunts an affirmative, pushing to her feet. "Good. Now where's this thing you need my prints on?"

" _Rethink this_." Olaf pleads. " _Don't go through with this, I'm begging y—_ "

" _Right outside your door._ " Regina says; the sweet, savouring triumph in her voice making Elsa sick.

Elsa pushes the vanity out of the way and opens the beaten door. A number of lackeys stand just outside, staring at her expectantly. Regina must have switched frequencies just long enough to tell them what was going on. Her thought is confirmed when one steps forward and, with gloves, pulls out a pistol resting in a plastic bag. He opens it.

With a shaky breath, Elsa removes her right glove and flexes her fingers a few times, preparing for the inevitable. She reaches out her hand—

"Elsa, wait."

Elsa looks back to see a very pale Anna, staring at her with wide, frightened eyes.

"You don't have to do this." She says, her voice quivering. "You don't have to throw away everything just because— because of some misguided promise to protect me." Tears well in her eyes, and fall with every blink of her lashes. "Please." She whispers, her voice cracking. "I can't have your death on my conscious."

Elsa smiles sadly. "I'm sorry, but when I make a promise . . ." Elsa reaches into the bag and takes hold of the gun, making sure to get her print on the trigger. "I keep it." She murmurs, retracting her hand and putting her glove back on.

"The deed is done." Mulan confirms. "Her prints are on the weapon."

The lackey seals the bag and puts it back in his pocket.

Anna slumps against the doorframe and slides to the ground. "No." She whispers, grabbing fistfuls her own hair. "No, no, no, no, _no_."

" _Very good_." Regina purrs. " _Our deal is on. Thank you so much for your . . . cooperation_."

"Whatever." Elsa mutters. "Just make sure to— hey! Give that back!" Elsa makes a grab for Anna, but she presses the _bomb filled earpiece_ into her ear and darts away. Elsa growls and chases after her. She vaguely registers Mulan tagging along. "Anna!" She shouts, but the girl continues running and—from what Elsa can tell—talking hurriedly. "Snowman, patch me in to that conversation." Elsa snaps.

" _Aye aye_." Olaf says, and within seconds—

"— _fraid I don't understand_." Elsa hears Regina finish.

" _You promised Elsa that you'd protect me, my friends and my loved ones, did you not?_ " Anna says, her sentence broken and coming out in puffs. Elsa turns the corner and speeds up. She'll be on the girl in seconds.

" _Yes_." Regina says, hesitating. " _But—_ "

Probably feeling her time running out, Anna cuts the High Queen off with; " _That means you're honour bound to protect Elsa. You can't frame her without breaking your word._ "

Elsa, a mere centimeter from grabbing Anna's shirt, stumbles in shock.

Regina's piercing laughter brings her back to reality.

" _I'm sorry, dear, but you two simply haven't known each other long enough for you to consider her a friend or a loved one. Nice try, though._ "

Irritated, Anna stops in her tracks and spins around. Elsa barely has the time to stop and prevent herself from crashing into the girl, a feat which she doesn't succeed. Elsa wraps her arms around the redhead to keep them both from tumbling to the ground. Anna glances past Elsa. Elsa goes to see what she's looking for, when suddenly she's being pulled dow—

Elsa's eyes widen.

Even though her lips don't have the sense to respond to Anna's unexpected advance, she at least has the foresight to close her eyes. She doesn't know why she does, exactly—it's not like she's giving herself room to enjoy the moment, after all—but still – that's what she does.

" _What's happening?_ " Regina barks, unsettled by the silence. " _Ping, report_."

"Uhh . . ." Mulan stutters from behind them. "They're kissing." She pauses, moving for a better angle. "Yup, definitely kissing."

 _Well._ Elsa thinks. _At least I know what Anna was looking for – she was making sure there was an eyewitness. Clever_.

Anna pulls away with a shy, timid smile. Elsa blinks her eyes open, staring mutely into the teal orbs of the woman she still holds in her arms.

" _What?_ " Regina shouts, venom slipping into her words.

"I'm not surprised you never noticed, considering how Elsa is." Anna says, whipping out her CEO voice. "On the other hand, I'm also shocked that you didn't because, realistically, when has she ever done something for someone else when she literally had nothing to gain and everything to lose?" Silence greets her. "Exactly." Anna says, punctuating her point.

An overwhelming amount relief mixed with gratitude well in Elsa's chest.

All her life Elsa has accepted that she would die, probably at a young age and that it probably wasn't going to be pretty. When she made the deal with Regina it was more of a confirmation of what she already knew. It was odd knowing exactly when your end would arrive, but it didn't change anything, not really.

Now, though, as she stares into the kind teal eyes of Anna Arendelle, Elsa experiences something she's never felt before.

Hope.

Tears rise unbidden, and Elsa couldn't have stopped them from falling even if she wanted to. With a strangled sob, Elsa buries her nose in the crook of Anna's neck. The assassin vaguely hears Mulan commentating the scene playing out before her, but she drowns it out in favour of Anna's sweet murmurs and the comforting circles the woman draws on her back.

She's harshly brought back to reality by Regina's furious growl.

" _Ice Queen played me like a fucking fiddle._ " She snarls, as irate as a rabid dog. " _I warn you,_ Anna _. If your pathetic little love ever falls out of disfavour with you, I_ will _have her framed for the princess's death. Being with a cold blooded murder is hard, after all_ ,"—Elsa feels Anna stiffening in her arms. Elsa squeezes her in reassurance—" _Soon you'll come to your senses and realise how falling for the woman who singlehandedly gave you PTSD is a mistake. When that day comes I'll be there, and I'll laugh as I watch your dear, sweet_ Elsa _is strapped into an execution chair_."

Elsa knows an end when she hears one, and pulls the device out of Anna's ear, tossing it to Mulan. The woman, in turn, tosses it down the hallway and hits a button, causing the device to explode in mid air. Mulan takes one last glance at the 'couple'. It looks like she wants to say something but decides better on it.

A minute later, still wrapped in Anna's arms, Elsa hears the distinct voices of Anna's friends and extracts herself, hastily wiping any remaining wetness from her eyes. Anna twitches a comforting—but notably hesitant—smile.

"Anna, thank god you're all right!" Kristoff says, wrapping Anna in the tightest hug he can muster without suffocating her.

"Yeah!" Rapunzel says, slapping Anna on the arm before joining in on the hug. "Don't scare us like that."

"I didn't try to." Anna answers truthfully, obviously happy to be back amongst her friends.

" _Cameras are back up_." Olaf says. " _As far as I can tell all the messes have been cleaned up, too. They must have had cleaners right on sight because I don't even see a speck of blood_."

"That's good to hear." Elsa replies, ignoring the questioning looks she gets from the three in front of her. "What about the property damage?"

" _Yeah that . . . that's still there. Clever, though – it's been made to look like an armed robbery, which corresponds with what people must have heard_." Olaf says, a shrug in his voice.

"Was anybody hurt in the crossfire?"

" _Not as far as I can tell. You're lucky this is the rare times that Oaken's Inn has a low percentage of rooms rented._ "

"Lucky indeed." Elsa hums. She catches the eye of the curious, wary and not-so-friendly looks she's receiving and clears her throat. "I'll contact you sometime soon, okay Snowman?"

" _After the stupid stunt you pulled today, I'm not sure if I want you to_."

"Shut up and be happy I'm not dead." Elsa grunts. She hears Olaf chortle in response a she pulls off the earpiece, turns it off and shoves it in her pocket. Silence greets her. She shifts uneasily. "Sooo." She starts, clenching and unclenching her hands nervously. She's not used to this.

Anna turns to her two friends and clears her throat uneasily. "Okay, guys, uhh . . . this is Elsa. My . . . girlfriend. Probably." Anna gives Elsa an inquiring look that asks, 'what are we, exactly?' Elsa shrugs helplessly. Kristoff blinks dumbly.

"What?" Rapunzel barks, whirling on Anna. "How in hell could you be with . . . someone, who has been trained to kill for a living? Hell, she tried to kill _you_ , and today she took out numerous lives without a second thought. Are you fucking crazy?"

"I'd say she is." Elsa says, shocking the three in front of her. "You were going to get off scot free—with elite assassin guardians, no less—but you decided to proclaim our love for each other when we hardly know one another in a misguided attempt to help your 'saviour'." Elsa's eyes soften. "But you . . . made it work, and you saved my life." She says, a vulnerably Anna's never heard before seeping into her voice. "Even if this doesn't last,"—Elsa continues—"you've bought me time I never would have had without you and . . . thank you. You didn't have to, but you did."

Anna smiles softly. "How strange, I remember saying something every similar to that the last time we met." She pauses. "The last part of what you said, that is. Not the first part."

Elsa smiles warmly. It doesn't quite reach her eyes, but it's the closest she's ever come to it. "I figured."

* * *

Three years later.

Anna sits at the kitchen table, her laptop set up in front of her. She's looking over the annual overview reports for her company.

Sitting on the couch with a intense—but distant—stare, is Elsa.

Wedding bands adorn both their ring fingers.

Anna glances up from the never ending spreadsheet to stare at her wife, no doubt mulling over yet another case.

Soon after Anna saved the former assassin's ass from a world-wide man hunt, Elsa decided to use continue using her talents . . . but in a more legal form. She went through Olaf instead of the proper channels to bypass the formal qualifications she already possessed, but was otherwise thorough in making her private detective operation legit. Something about stupid people with stupid grudges and not wanting to have to murder someone for sticking their nose in a loophole.

It was an oddly comforting sentiment.

Anna admits there were bumps along the way; she admits that it was hard and how she sometimes she wished she never helped the blond. There were days—sometimes weeks—that Anna seriously considered allowing Elsa take the hit for the Arab Princess's death. She admits that she was sometimes so close to breaking that she almost _called_ the High Queen, wanting nothing more to do with the former elite assassin.

The dust always settled before she did anything drastic, but the fact she was willing to give up at all makes the redhead's blood run cold upon thinking back.

Elsa is her knight in camouflage armour; her protection against the darkness. Anna doesn't know what she'd do without the allusive woman, and the thought of living the rest of her life without her is enough to make her heart ache painfully.

"You're staring." Elsa says, not taking her eyes away from the wall-length window.

Anna twitches an affectionate smile. "That I am." She replies, making no move to continue on with what she was doing prior to getting distracted. Elsa turns away from her thoughts and raises a curious eyebrow, giving Anna the; 'what's up?' look. Anna merely grins in return. Elsa takes a moment to take the younger girl in.

"You have your sentimental eyes going on." Elsa says, her voice caring. "Is something wrong?" Anna's loving smile twitches wider.

"No." She whispers. "It's just right." Elsa's face softens, a gentle smile spreading over her lips. A smile Anna and only Anna will ever be privileged to see.

"What brought this on?" Elsa asks, pushing from her seat and making her way to the table. She takes a seat beside her wife, her smile taking on a comforting edge. "Getting lost in thought again?" She enquires. Anna chuckles, running a hand through her bangs.

"Maybe a little." She admits, flashing the blond a blinding, adoring grin. Elsa, although with less enthusiasm, beams back.

"Anything I should be privy to?" Elsa asks, a teasing hint to her words. Anna giggles and turns in her chair, wrapping her arms around the blond's neck.

"It's nothing you don't already know." Anna assures, leaning forward until her forehead connects with the older woman's. "I was just thinking about how far we've come, despite the odds." She whispers, making their noses flush with each other. Elsa grins, closing her eyes.

"It certainly was quite the transition, wasn't it?" She murmurs.

"Yes, but it wasn't anything we couldn't handle." Anna comforts, tilting her head to connect their lips. It's a gentle, reassuring kiss – a promise to always be there and to continuously strive to be the best that they can be.

"I'm glad." Elsa whispers once they part, a gentle smile on her lips. "I love you." She says, making Anna's heart flutter haplessly.

"I love you, too." Anna says, a smile spreading so wide across her lips that it makes her cheeks hurts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still not taking prompts. Still not technically back. This was more of a Valentine day special, than anything . . . in my morbid type of way. Hope you enjoyed it.


	10. God-Like Elsa and Dictator Anna

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New Year’s present to my readers and **_[Texan Red Rose](https://www.fanfiction.net/u/2717222/Texan-Red-Rose)_** , author of _Call Me, Beep me; The Blizzard Badge, Multiplayer_ , and so many more. (Check ‘em out. Tell them to buy a Benz.)

Heroes. Rulers. Monarchs. Slaves.

Revolution. Concessions. Hierarchy. Ill-will.

Assassins. Civil war. Destruction. Conquerors.

Evolution. Technology. Inventions. World wars.

Human kind goes through the same cycle, no matter the circumstances, no matter the era. It's a cycle Elsa tries to influence by either interfering or leaving the species to their own devices. No matter what she chooses, humanity always fails. Still Elsa allows them to plod on until they hit a certain stage they always reach, but she never allows them to pass. Exploring the galaxy.

It's at this point she's forced to make a choice. Let a war-like, malfunctioning species infect the other creatures of the universe, or beat them back to the beginning – forcing them to start over, try again.

She always picks the latter.

Even if she knows the latter never works.

Elsa huffs a sigh through her nose, scanning the faces around her as she walks through the stink of the bronze age. Or at least that's what humans always seem to call it once they declare themselves sophisticated. In the comfort of her own mind Elsa calls it the plague era; ripe with disease and just enough technological advancements make war a slaughter and holy torture an abomination.

If she wanted, Elsa could implement means to prevent these sorts of things from happening—she certainly has the power—but she knows from experience that it doesn't solve the problem. A problem she's long since come to believe is in the very nature of humanity itself, woven into their DNA as surely as motor functions. Inescapable. Incurable.

A plate smashes against the side of her head—or is her form masked as a he, right now?—and she blinks, glancing down at the broken clay at her feet. She knows better then to ask who did it, knowing the source either won't answer or wants a fight. So Elsa walks on, ignoring the transgression like so many others she has in the past.

Her ears pick up the sounds of the city; the muffled screams, groans of the homeless, whimpering of underweight dogs, the sounds forced prostitution, the sounds of willing prostitution, the local gang beating up a poor kid who didn't know better, crooked venders coaxing passing citizens—

Elsa sighs. Even after restarting humanity a hundred times over—not all by her hand—she still bears witness to the same societal progression. The same atrocities. The same . . . _this_.

Elsa looks around her, wondering what _this_ is, other than the obvious. Is it compiling evidence, leading her to make the same choice she always makes as surely as a nuke emitting radiation? Or perhaps the repeating nightmare that confirms hell is real?

Or is it simply, _this_. Something so trivial, so meaningless, it doesn't even deserve an explanation. No names. No labels. Just . . . _this_.

Elsa stops at the foot of the corrupt city's grand castle, glancing to the guards at the top of the stairs. They glare at her. Look down on her for more than thinking she's a peasant.

"I've come as an ambassador from the shadow kingdom," her crisp, feminine voice declares. Oh. That might explain the looks she's getting. "I wish to speak to your dictator."

It's a good a cover as any. The shadow kingdom is known for dark magic and sorcery. In reality they get their prophets high on a local drug that makes them appear to be possessed by the devil. No one is smart enough to realize it's a drug, of course, because anyone who takes it other than a prophet dies from overdose. Meaning their prophets are mere crack-heads with a high resistance to toxins.

Is that a place Elsa wants to associate herself with? No, but it's a place many fear from the rumors alone, even if most of the claims are false. In a way it's sad the guardian seeks to use the very falsehoods she wishes nonexistent but, in her defence, the very existence of humanity is sad. Anything she adds to their pitiful existence can only be considered a mercy.

Perhaps using that logic means she needs to be replaced.

 _Ha!_ Elsa thinks, bounding up the stairs and following the guards. _As if any other guardian wants humanity as their charge. I was foolish enough to accept, thinking I could make a difference where others had failed, and look where that left me_.

Thankfully it hasn't left her mad, like her immediate predecessor. He had gone through far more re-tries than herself, and it had driven him to the point where he controlled humanity like a god, believing them no better than worthless slaves that needed instruction.

Elsa's fingers twitch as a group of passing guards leer at her. She wants to push her magic into their minds and scream at them, force them to see every lesson they're meant to learn but never do.

With a steadying breath, the guardian closes her eyes.

Maybe she's not much better than her predecessor, after all. She hasn't manipulated the world to his severity, sure, but she fears she's not far off. Sometimes, for _fun_ , she wonders if doing whatever she wanted would be better than her pointless mission. There wouldn't be any consequences – she could erase human history, after all. Make them all forget.

Shaking her head, Elsa opens her eyes and passes through the open throne room doors.

The dictator—tyrant, empress; whatever the hell her people call her—sitting in the elegant chair on a rise at the end of the room, smirks.

"I hear you're from the shadow kingdom," the redhead purrs, her cruel eyes glinting with mischief. "That's a high claim. Do you have anyone to vouch for you?"

 _I can get any confirmation you'd like with the wave of my hand_ , Elsa thinks, stopping in front of the raised dais. "I've been sent by the prophets to acquire a _guest_ of yours named Belle," she says, getting straight to the point. The dictator's—Anna's—eyes flash with surprise, and the nearby guards murmur amongst themselves.

Anna's composure returns as quickly as it fled, and she smiles. "Sorry," she says, sounding anything but, "but my castle walls do not contain—"

"No, your exposure cells do," Elsa snaps, not caring that she's adding to the prophet myth. She needs to get Belle out, and she doesn't much care what human consequences she causes. It's not like it'll matter when she restarts the clock.

Belle is a fellow guardian whom wanted a chance meandering around humanity, hoping to make a difference. The woman could have left as easily as she resigned to capture, but she's new to this particular hell and believes she can turn her situation around without being extreme. Elsa has waited long enough for this to happen to know it won't, but she at least has the decency to respect Belle's wishes and get her out the normal way. Or normal-ish. Depending on how this goes Elsa might just blow the joint up. It's not like the citizens will chock it up to anything more than poor building structure.

One good thing about the plague era is that everyone is educated in stupid theories like the earth being flat and that it's the center of the solar system, so no one will suspect foul play.

It's almost depressing how stupid humans are.

Anna's lip curls, but she doesn't deny the accusation. "Why is this Belle of any significance to the shadow kingdom?" she asks.

"I don't question your logic," Elsa retorts, because she doesn't; humans don't have logic to question. "I'd ask you don't question ours." _It's not like you'd understand_ , she thinks.

Anna hums. It's not a pleasant sound. "That's not how it works here," she rumbles, standing. She gestures to a side door. "How about we go a place a little more private?"

Elsa shrugs. "Lead the way," she says. Elsa's magic will pick up on any foul play long before it happens. She is in no danger here.

Anna's lips curl into a smile, one that has Elsa fighting a sneer.

Without a word Anna waves off a guard with brisk instructions and trods away. If Elsa wasn't a guardian perhaps this might have confused her, but her limited future sight allows her peace of mind. Well, as much peace of mind as you can get when dealing with humans.

"So," Anna says as they enter a narrow hallway, "you don't seem as crazy as the stories about your kingdom lead me to believe."

 _I'd be worried if they did_ , Elsa thinks, taking the unintentional compliment. "A rare few are shaped in spite of their environment instead of by it," she says, neglecting to mention her type of personal experience in the matter. No one wants to hear about those 'rare few' humans that grow up violent and disturbed, even with Elsa's direct guidance and unconditional love. Not even Elsa herself.

Elsa smiles at the thought. It's not happy, or bitter, or even emotionally motivated. Elsa's not quite sure what it is, to be honest. A recognition of irony, perhaps?

Anna raises an eyebrow, glancing back at the blond in the dim flickering of the spattered torches. "You don't sound impressed," she says, "if I didn't know better I'd say you were looking for a better opportunity."

 _If it means getting off this planet, certainly_ , Elsa agrees, breathing an inaudible sigh of relief when the passage opens into a spacious corridor. "I'm not interested, if you're offering," Elsa drawls. Tying herself to a war-bent, power-hungry lunatic is the last thing she needs. Bearing the brunt of Earth's planet-wide stupidity from a distance is bad enough. Experiencing it first hand for an extended period of time? No thanks. She made _that_ mistake too many times before, and it's not one she's willing to make again.

Anna clucks her tongue. "Shame," she murmurs, and Elsa might have believed it if she hadn't known better. Other peoples lives are a game to humans like Anna, and that fact alone should disturb Elsa but it _doesn't_ , because it's so disgustingly common she doesn't know what else to expect.

Maybe that's something Elsa hoped to gain by letting Belle prance around the home to her pitiable charge – perspective. Not because she ever lost it, but because the years have made her biased, and maybe—just maybe—a little resentful. Elsa had been hoping Belle would be able to change that, but the young guardian managed to accomplish the complete opposite.

If Elsa allowed herself the time of day to actually think about that she knows she'll realize just how much it physically pains her to be proven right; so she doesn't think about it. Nobody wants to win an argument that allows the worst to flourish. At least not anyone among the rational species of the universe.

"Here we are," Anna says, stopping and making a grand, unnecessary gesture to a set of moderately impressive double doors. The dictator proceeds to open and hold one of them open, shoving an open palm inside the room. "Lady's first," the redhead mocks, a devilish smirk curling the corner of her lips.

Elsa shrugs. "Okay," she says, walking into the study without hesitation. Out of the corner of her eye she sees Anna's confidence waver, a puzzled furrow forming in her brow before the leader schools her features. Anna's good at masks, Elsa will give her that much.

"Right," Anna says, shutting the door with unnecessary force. "We have a problem we need to address," she says, picking up a clay bottle of ale and sitting in her seat, feet propped cross-ankled on her desk. She points the open flask at the guardian. "I'm assuming you want to take Belle home with you?"

"Of a sort," Elsa allows. She wouldn't condemn anyone to her immortal suite drifting in-between realms outside Earth's atmosphere. She'd burn the place down if it were possible.

Anna nods, expecting that answer. "You see," she says, "Belle is too important to the future of my kingdom for me to hand her over simply because you ask." She takes a swing of ale.

Elsa's blood runs cold, if only for an instant. Anything Belle has done Elsa can erase from human memory.

The guardian takes a seat on the other side of the desk. "And why would that be?" she asks, even though she already has a good idea.

"Sorry," Anna admonishes, a superior smirk curling on her lips like wisps of smoke. "That would be telling."

Elsa smiles, but there's no humour to it. Human ignorance stopped amusing her a long time ago. "It's hardly telling when you know far less than I," the guardian says. Anna blinks, but Elsa isn't done. "What did she tell you?" the blond asks. "Did she lie and call herself a god? Or did she tell you the truth?"

"I didn't tell her what I am specifically, if that's what you're getting at," Belle says, her shackles clattering to the ground. Anna jumps, tipping her chair back to a dangerous tilt before getting it under control.

"You were locked up," Anna sputters, glancing at the door. "I sent a guard to fetch you."

"I know," Belle allows, shrugging. "Expect panicked knocking soon."

Elsa leans back in her chair, sending Belle a stern stare. "You worked so hard to blend in, then you go and do this? Hardly a productive thing to do," she says.

Belle sends her fellow guardian a flat look. "When I sensed you'd gotten involved, I could only assume anything I did from that point on was inconsequential," she drawls.

"Well, yes," Elsa allows, "but I had been trying to break you out with at least a normal appearance."

The younger blond runs her fingers through her hair with a sigh. "You're going to kill everyone, aren't you?" Belle asks, voice low and disappointed.

"Whoa," Anna interrupts, "no one is—"

"No," Elsa answers, ignoring the human. "I was actually going to erase their memories of us, but thank you for the vote of confidence."

Anna barks a laugh. "You can't do that!" she cackles. "No one has the power to do that."

Elsa raises an eyebrow, jerking her thumb towards Belle. "You did just see my friend here teleport into the room, right?" she asks, voice flat with sarcasm. That shuts the dictator up. Elsa turns her attention back to the young guardian. "Go back home. I'll deal with the situation here."

Belle's eyebrows knit together. "Elsa—"

"Go," Elsa orders, glaring at the other woman. "You've tried your hand, now let me do my job and fix the ripples you've caused."

"But not all of those ripples were bad!" Belle cries.

"I know," Elsa says, "and I'll leave your positive influences alone. Not that they'll do any good. It never does." She gives a bitter smile, surprised this still bothers her after all her years of seeing history repeat itself.

A comforting hand warms her shoulder, and Elsa glances up to meet Belle's shimmering eyes. "You don't have to do it alone anymore," the younger guardian murmurs.

"I never had to to begin with," Elsa says, laying a hand on Belle's stomach. "But it's too late to start now." She shoves the brunette, pushing her through a portal to the guardian home world before Belle can protest.

Terrified knocking sounds on the study doors.

"Empress Anna!" a ragged voice pants. "The prisoner is gone! She—"

Elsa waves her hand and the noise stops. Anna pales, making to stand . . . only to find herself incapable of doing so.

"What have you done?" the dictator asks, a harsh swallow bobbing her throat. Humans in the plague era are so easy to scare.

The guardian shrugs. "Anyone who shouldn't remember Belle and my presence no longer do," she explains. "You're the only one whose memory I haven't altered. Do you honestly think I'd just let you go with images of me still bouncing around within your skull?"

"Then go on and do it!" Anna spits, her fire returning as quickly as it fled. "I'm sure your all mighty duties demand your presence elsewhere."

Elsa's eyes soften. "If only they did," she mutters, pinching the bridge of her nose. "I can't help your kind," she continues. "The lot of you are unwilling to change and I can't— I don't know what do to." She laughs, loud and helpless. "I'm a part of the most powerful species in the galaxy and even I can't save humanity from itself. Look at me! I'm so lost I'm confessing to a _human_." Elsa slumps, her head falling into her hands. "Please tell me why your kind is so . . . _deplorable_."

Anna's eyes harden. "It's not in your best interes—"

Elsa slams her hands onto the desk, cracking the wood. Her blazing eyes make Anna swallow rough enough to hurt.

"Tell me," the guardian growls. " _Tell me_ what I'm missing! What am I doing wrong? What element in those puny little heads of yours am I miscalculating? _How can I fix you?_ " Elsa grips her bangs, frustrated tears burning in her eyes. "I can't keep watching your race fail," she chokes, voice hoarse. "I- I just can't. Not after I try _so hard_ to help you see and you _never do_. So tell me, I beg you, _what am I missing?_ " Her voice cracks, and she grits her teeth.

What the hell is she doing? Humans don't care about the long term consequences for their actions, so why would a tyrant of Anna's caliber be any different?

Elsa pinches the bridge of her nose. "Never mind," she murmurs, tilting her head until it connects with the back of the chair. She stares up at the ceiling, her mind, for once, blank.

She has no plans. No ideas. No inkling of hope that any of this, any of _anything_ , will make a difference.

Anna's eyebrows furrow. "What are you going on about?" she asks, annoyance grating her tone. "I take it back, my earlier statement. You _are_ as strange as the shadow kingdom rumors suggest."

Elsa doesn't know whether to laugh or cry. So, in compromise, she does neither.

"I am not a human like yourself," she murmurs, eying a spot of flaking paint on the ceiling, "and I certainly don't originate from those drug addicts." She lowers her gaze, catching the redhead's. "This planet is not my home, but it's human inhabits are my charge." Elsa barks a laugh at the look she receives. "I am no happier than you with the arrangement, I assure," the guardian says, her amusement flickering away. "Seeing humanity doom itself into extinction more times than I can count . . .

"I've lost my faith in you as a species"—Elsa laughs, tears leaking from her eyes—"and the pitiable thing is that _none of you_ seem to care. I'm the guardian in charge of humanity, wielding the power to literally wipe every last one of you off the face of the Earth and—" her words are cut short by a hoarse sob, and she buries her face in her hands. "A-and I don't think I'm strong enough to resist the urge anymore. _Fuck!_ " Elsa stands and whips her chair across the room, smashing it to splinters.

"Even your personalities infuriate me!" the guardian cries. "Your very existence grates on my every nerve and I hate that some tiny, optimistic part of myself refuses to give up on you, even though _I fucking hate being responsible for you_. What's the point if you never _listen?_ Or, when you do have the sense to listen, you never _learn_. God! It's like I'm trying to teach a goddamn slug how to use a litterbox!"

The guardian seethes like she hasn't done in ages, pacing back and forth like a caged raptor. She doesn't care that Anna's staring at her with fear, dread and disbelief warring upon her features. She doesn't care that she looks like a lunatic. She doesn't care that her home world is analyzing her every action.

Maybe the council will do what it should have eons ago, and replace her. No one wants Earth or its inhabits as their charge, but maybe the elder guardians will finally vote for an unbreakable planet lock. Nothing would get in or out of Earth's atmosphere for the rest of time.

Elsa thinks she shouldn't boarder on the line of hysterical laughter at the thought but, damn it, humanity _deserves_ to be locked away. How could they deserve otherwise after burning through seventeen guardians and more re-tries than Elsa dares to count?

If only humans weren't so _stupid_.

Anna gnaws on her lower lip, sensing her growing predicament rather than understanding it. The redhead might be a hard-handed tyrant, but even she has come to learn when she is outgunned. Normally this comes in the form of armies and war machines, but she'll accept the plain sense of danger blaring in her mind, the dread tightening her chest.

Whether this blond's tale is true or not is irrelevant. What matters is that she can back up her threats, or at least wholeheartedly believes she can, and she has no qualms in doing so.

Anna licks her lips. "Okay," she says slowly, making Elsa's ears perk in a way that makes Anna's chest grow cold. "I'm sure we can negotiate a compromise."

Elsa barks a frantic laugh, a far cry from the composed woman the redhead greeted in the throne room.

"You think you're in a position to bargain?" the guardian cackles, tears of mirth clouding her eyes as she bends over double, howling with ill humour. "If I so desired I could dissolve your overbearing kingdom to ash in a blink of an eye, and top it off with making _everyone forget you ever existed_. So, tell me, what can you _possibly_ offer me that I couldn't already accomplish a thousand times over?"

That's a good question, one that Anna doesn't have an answer to. All she knows is that she _doesn't want to forget_ , because what happens if she does? Is she the only person alive who knows about Elsa's existence?

The thought of someone so powerful lurking in the shadows, never seen and never known, makes Anna's blood seize in her veins. No one should have that immunity, especially not someone as unseated as the woman in front of her.

Anna's heart stops when she meets the blond's deceivingly calm eyes, the woman's body rigid as she examines every thought passing through the dictator's irises. A bitter smile stretches Elsa's lips.

"Such human concerns," the guardian murmurs, her tone sending a chill down Anna's spine. "Not unfounded, in this scenario, but disgustingly human nonetheless. If your race wasn't ruled by such pity instincts to begin with, we'd never be in this situation to begin with. How ironic is that?" Elsa scowls. "If only irony didn't have to be so damn depressing."

Anna gives a harsh swallow, her heart debating between beating hard enough to break her ribs or outright stopping.

"That's how your people feel when they're confronted with you, you know," Elsa murmurs, pointing to Anna's chest before turning her gaze out the window, unseeing. "It's not a pleasant sensation, is it?"

For lack of control over her vocal cords, Anna merely nods. She wants to deny it, say their circumstances are completely different, but that isn't exactly true, is it? Which is an odd observation in and of itself.

Elsa, as if reading her mind—again—says, "Don't be too alarmed"—but Anna _doesn't_ feel alarmed; that's what's troubling—"I tweaked the logic center of your brain." The guardian smiles bitterly. "Call it selfish, if you must, but I couldn't handle having the same denial argument again. So congratulations, you're officially the smartest, most logical human on the planet. That's not much of an accomplishment, mind you, but I commend you nonetheless."

"Okay," Anna says, her eyebrows falling into an unamused line. "These continuous insults against humanity are getting out of hand. "Can't we just both agree your race is better than mine and get on with it? Let's skip to the part where we manage to get something productive done."

Elsa cocks an eyebrow. "Interesting proposal," she allows, "but redundant. I will stop bashing your species in light of your newfound intelligence, but I have no intention of helping you or affiliating myself with you in any way, shape or form. I've created a policy of avoiding emotionally connecting myself to your kind, and I feel the new hardwiring of your brain could do that to me. No offense."

"No offence taken?" Anna says, frowning. Elsa cracks a smile; it isn't warm in any sense of the word, but it's a far cry more pleasant than it was mere moments before.

"I've gone through this process enough times to know that, despite your best intentions, you will inevitably fail." Elsa shrugs, adding, "Sorry to discourage you, but I need you to know that I can't bear to experience that pain again."

Anna perks in her seat. "Discourage me?" she asks. "Does this mean—"

"Yes," the guardian cuts in. "Do your best to prove me and this deplorable cycle wrong, but do call on me once— _if_ you fail. I'll be listening."

Then, just like that, Elsa is gone and Anna is free to move. The dictator continues sitting, however, the gravity of her task threatening to overwhelm her. Going about fixing _her own_ kingdom with how her rule has shaped it is going to be difficult enough, and who knows how many years it will take. Fixing everywhere else, too?

Suddenly Anna realizes why Elsa insults her species with such regularity, and something tells Anna that she'll be doing the exact same thing before she's through.

* * *

Anna stares out of her sky-rise condo's wall-length window with heavy eyes. She's long since ignored the bags that linger underneath them, being present on her skin for more centuries than she cares to count.

Elsa, the mysterious immortal who's been absent from Anna's life for the past decade, did more to the redheaded dictator than she let on all those millennia ago. A fact the blond only admitted to two hundred years after the fact, in an redundant, unsigned letter that burned itself after Anna finished reading it.

Such was the relationship between the human and the guardian. Ever since the day Elsa rescued her fellow kinsman the blond only clarifies what Anna already knows, and they've only met in person a total of twenty times. _Three and a half thousand years_ , and the guardian's only had the decency to meet the redhead in person _twenty times_.

But Anna supposes she can't complain. As long as Elsa sees that the former dictator is trying, she helps Anna in subtle ways that has saved her hide more than once. To this day Anna will heed out-of-nowhere directions without a thought, not wanting a repeat of the Babylonian debacle, in which she almost lost her arm.

Absently, Anna traces the raised scar through the fabric of her t-shirt. The wound had become infected, and the doctors of the day had wanted to saw it off and cauterize the wound with red-hot iron. They might have, too, if Elsa hadn't directly spoken into Anna's mind, telling her to get up and leave, promising that the wound wouldn't mean the end of her if she did. The guardian had healed Anna's injury enough to ensure it wouldn't get infected again, then told the redhead to listen to her abstract directions in the future.

"'The Empress's Fallen Kingdom, Part One'?" Kristoff reads, picking up the bulky book from the countertop. He turns it over in his hands. "It looks old."

Anna glances at the man from over her shoulder, studying him.

Kristoff is the hundredth or so descendent of the Bjorgman line, who had promised themselves to Anna's cause during the rise of the Roman Empire. At first it was a nuisance, then it was a comfort, then painful as she watched each generation die and, finally, it became a necessity. When the world of documentation arose, Anna had no way of obtaining birth certificates or SIN numbers every few decades without arising suspicion. The Bjorgman's help her in that regard, when it's required, but they mainly act as her support network because when she needs to help, _she needs to help_.

"It's not," Anna replies, sitting on the armrest of the couch. "The original was destroyed a long time ago. That one is just an English reprint."

Kristoff hums, reading the blurb on the back. Most of the Bjorgman's know this book—along with part two—is one that always remains in Anna's library, but Kristoff, only being brought into the 'know' fold last year, lacks the knowledge of the book's significance.

"I didn't take you as a fantasy lover," the blond man remarks, probing, and setting the book back on the counter. Anna's lips twitch, but she doesn't correct the man. She stopped explaining the importance of the novel some centuries ago. Not only because she got tired of repeating herself, but because she figured the less people who know it's a true story about her origins, the better.

The best part? Anna didn't write it. No one did. For all accounts and purposes, it was _never_ written. The original tome just showed up on her doorstep one day, and every time the book becomes too worn, a new copy appears, no matter where she is.

It didn't take a stretch of the imagination to figure out who was behind it. Nor was it hard to guess the author behind the sequels, although it's rare if she ever gets any additional copies of those ones.

Anna hopes Elsa keeps copies of them all, though, because they help her human brain remember the details she forgets, which are far more than the ones she remembers.

"I'm not," Anna finally answers, casting her gaze back out the window. Her whole life is one huge fantasy novel—or a series of them, in this case—the last thing she needs to do is read about different sets of extraordinary events.

Kristoff frowns at the vague answer, his gaze flicking back to the thick paper-back, wondering. The redhead has never been particularly open about herself, which the blond can understand if the stories of her lifetime are to be believed, but that doesn't make being left in the dark any easier to swallow.

The blond had made the mistake of getting into a confrontation with Anna about this a couple months ago. Kristoff will never get the image of the raging redhead out of his head.

'So what if I tell you?' Anna had bellowed. 'What makes you any different than the _hundreds_ of people I've told in the past? In the end you'll wither away and I'll be left with another _you_ , confronting me about my aloofness like they have a _right_ to know. Do you know how it feels, knowing you can't attach yourself to anyone because you know you'll have to watch them die? Guardian!' she'd screamed, tilting her head to the sky. 'Is this what you wanted? To make me _miserable?_ Well you succeeded!' She pauses, her jaw working, before tears well in her eyes. 'Why don't you talk to me anymore?' she choked, sinking to her knees and clawing at the carpet. 'Please, just say hello. You're the only one who's been there from the beginning. Come back to me. _I need you_.'

Kristoff tilts his head, taking a detailed stock of the worn state of the novel. How many times had Anna read it? How many times had she read the copies she had in the past?

Curious, the blond hefts the novel back up again and opens it. He raises an eyebrow. There's no publisher information, no copyright, no author's note. It just starts.

_Chapter 1_

_The dictator listens to the messenger, a slow smile curling on her lips as he passes on his information._

" _Really?" the woman drawls, shouldering past the adolescent runner in direction of the throne room._

 _According to the young man, a woman claiming the shadow kingdom as her origins has requested an audience with her. Hearing from the kingdom of prophecies and dark magic is rare enough, but for them to send an_ _ambassador, unannounced or otherwise, is almost unheard of._

_The young dictator—tyrant, empress; whatever people call her these days—pushes into the throne room from a side entrance, bounding up the dais and sitting on her throne, pleased she arrived before her guest._

_The dictator, Anna Landalis, stands tall for the time at five foot six, having sharp teal eyes and fiery red hair tied in twin plaits—_

The book slips from Kristoff's hands and it falls the short distance to the counter with a _bang_. He raises his head to stare at Anna in open wonder, in confusion.

Anna, already staring him down with a critical eye, twitches a hollow smile. "Like I said," she says, "I don't do fantasy."

Kristoff snaps his gaping mouth shut. "You wrote about your history," he breathes, the mere idea exciting him. How much would he be able to learn without ever having to ask?

"Hardly," Anna scoffs. "That's someone else's condensed version of the time period that novel covers. I'm sure they have a day-to-day record, as well, but no one wants to read that, not even me."

For a moment the blond man only stares. Who else but Anna could have wrote it?

The redhead raises an eyebrow. "No one wrote it," she says. At Kristoff's look, she shrugs. "You have a habit of thinking out loud."

"Oh," the blond murmurs, flushing. He pauses. "Wait, if no one—"

"I don't know," Anna interrupts. "These things just show up at my door, but I know that they aren't written in the traditional sense of the word. It's the same as how I know my life isn't documented manually and it's more akin to . . . having a camera pointed at me day and night." _Except with far less technology involved_ , Anna thinks, recalling the displays of Elsa and . . . Elizabeth? Betty? Damn it. She's going to have to look up that name in the book.

"That . . ." Kristoff frowns. "How do you live like that?"

Anna shrugs. "It's been like that for as long as I remember," she admits. "My actions are constantly being watched and criticised; it's the nature of the hand I've been dealt. After a while it fades to the back of your mind, or you forget about it altogether. The only time you remember is when you make a mistake and, suddenly, you're on your own." Anna's jaw locks, the muscles jumping angrily. It was for this very reason that Elsa has kept radio silence for the past ten years.

But how can she be blamed so harshly for the fault of humanity? Anna doesn't have the fortune to have a guardian's will, their perseverance. She's all alone, severely depressed and, above all, still human. So what if she lost her marbles and killed a couple men? They deserved it.

Anna winces. It's that type of thinking that got her into this fix to begin with.

The strange thing about it all is that Anna swears Elsa's never abandoned her for such a thing in the past; there's never been a time when the guardian's gone this long without speaking to her.

"I'm tired, Kristoff," Anna says, weariness settling deep within her bones. She stands and walks to her room, pointing vaguely behind her. "You can read the book and the continuation, if you want. Just don't expect me to answer any questions regarding them. I doubt I'd remember, anyway."

* * *

_Book 24: The Nomad of Mesopotamia – Part Ten of Forty-Three_

_Page 693_

_A scowl twists Anna's blood covered lips, her grip tightening on the sword in her hand. "I don't want to hurt you," she growls, but the malice in her tone speaks a completely different story. As do the bodies littered around her._

" _Submit to judgement of the law!" one of the remaining guards shouts, his voice just short of cracking in fear._

" _I don't want to hurt you!" Anna bellows, spittle flying from her month and her eyes sparking with ire. "But if you continue to press this farce, I will_ tear you apart."

Four years later.

Anna crushes the butt of her cigarette under her boot, breathing out the last of the toxic smoke in rings.

"That's not good for you, you know."

"Piss off, Kristoff," Anna says, but there's no weight to her words. The last few years have seen to her attachment to the man, much to the redhead's dismay. She can't afford to have friends; it only makes the pain worse when she receives word of their passing. Or when they die in her arms.

"A book was delivered to Grand Pabbie's this morning," the blond man says, ignoring Anna's expected annoyance. "One of the publisher-less ones."

"Really?" Anna asks, contemplative. "Not enough has happened yet for it to be the newest instillation."

"Unless a hundred-eight comes after seven-hundred ninety-one, I'm inclined to agree," Kristoff says, mirth shining in his eyes.

The redhead frowns. "Which one was that?" she asks. "The title of it, I mean."

"'Of Athens Disposition and Spartan Brawn,' part four of fifteen," Kristoff replies, having memorized the title for this very occasion. "Can you think of anything Elsa might have deemed important in it to have sent it to you?"

Anna snorts. "Me remembering what I ate for breakfast is enough of a miracle as it is. How do you expect me to remember what happened sometime in BCE? That's what the tomes are for."

Kristoff shrugs. "Then you better get reading, if you want Elsa to resume contact with you."

Anna purses her lips, but doesn't argue. He's right, after all.

"Fine," the redhead agrees. "It's not like I had anything else planned for this week."

* * *

_Book 257: Of Roman Mind – Part Seventeen of Thirty-one_

_Page 1092_

" _Shh!" Anna hisses, clamping her hand over Favonia's mouth. The shouting of the soldiers outside grow louder, and sweat pools on the former dictator's temples, fear pooling in her gut. Favonia whimpers, squeezing her eyes shut, forcing more tears streaking down her cheeks._

' _Stay calm, and everything will turn out fine,' filters through Anna's thoughts, one that doesn't feel like her own. The redhead closes her eyes, relief spreading through her chest like a warm balm._

" _We'll be fine," Anna whispers, directly into Favonia's ear. "I promise you that I will get us out of this safe and sound if you obey every order I give you." She wants to say more, but how can she say,_ the voice in my head will direct us accordingly _without sounding crazy? So she remains silent, listening to the stomping of soldiers for hours as the city shake-down continues._

Anna closes the book, tapping her fingers thoughtfully on the back cover as she processes her own actions in ancient Greece. Sometimes it really does feel like she's reading fiction, for all she remembers of the different eras she's lived through. The only difference is that she can predict her own actions with painful accuracy.

This particular novel—one of the shorter ones at only six-hundred twenty-two pages—had been a hard one to read emotionally, and had such taken the redhead nearly a month to complete. Even if she doesn't remember most of her lifetime—save the most traumatic events—reading these novels and realizing what she's been forced to endure is gut-wrenching.

"Jesus," Anna hisses, pinching the bridge of her nose. Her stomach rolls, and for a moment she fears she'll void her stomach over her plush green carpet. She decides then and there that's it's a good thing she retains her human memory capacity, because she doesn't think she'd be able to function if she remembered even a fraction of her history on a daily basis. Just reading and not recalling makes the redhead want to blow her brains out.

Standing, Anna walks to her liquor cabinet and opens a bottle of fifty-eight year old Rye, that she's been saving since the day it was originally corked.

She will not be analyzing the significance of this novel until she dulls the harsh details.

* * *

_Book 346: Of the Darkest Ages – Part thirty-nine of forty_

_Page 91_

_Still dressed in priest robes, Anna rushes into the cathedral in a frenzy, declaring the archbishop dead._

" _What?" one of the bishops cry. "What happened?"_

I happened. _"I don't know!" Anna sobs, lying through her teeth. "I was just walking through the courtyard a-and then I heard—" her breath hitches and she covers her mouth with a trembling hand. Even from atop the tower she heard the_ crunch _of shattering bones when the vile man had struck bottom, the sight of his insides splattering over the broken cobblestone._

_It was a necessary maneuver to turn this city—the known world—onto a brighter path, but that doesn't make her actions any easier to swallow._

" _Speak, boy!" the bishop snaps, presuming Anna an adolescent boy, which suits the redhead just fine._

" _He fell from the tower," Anna chokes, her throat clenching painfully. Gasps rise up around her. "He was dead before he hit the ground."_

"No, Kristoff," Anna scowls, still nursing the whiskey in her hand.

The blond man sighs. "Look, Anna," he says, his voice as gentle as he can make it. "I read the novel, too, and I think you can benefit from visiting Grand Pabbie. He misses you."

"He's old," Anna snaps, trembling hard enough that she has to set down her tumbler to keep the contents from spilling. Softer, she says, "I don't want to see him like that. The visual confirmation of how close I am to losing him would tear me apart."

Kristoff can't help but wince, his mind flicking to Anna's history in the only three tomes he's read.

He's almost scared of the contents of the remaining seven-hundred eighty-eight.

"At least let him read the book," Kristoff compromises, not blaming Anna for her skittish behaviour. "He has more insight than me."

"I wouldn't doubt if he's already read it," Anna murmurs, casting a thoughtful look out the window. "Elsa's always liked him, and showered him with relevant editions whenever the need called for it. He wasn't allowed to keep them after he read them of course—as a safety precaution—but his memory is damn near perfect, so it's not like he needed to keep them around. Anyway, if he hadn't read it before he did when it showed up." She sends Kristoff a flat look when his expression remains blank. "The novel showed up at _his_ house, Kristoff, not mine. The only logical explanation is that it was meant for him and, considering it hasn't gone up in flames, it had come with instructions to pass on to me after he was finished reading it."

"So . . ." Kristoff scratches the back of his neck. "That means Elsa wants you to talk to him, right?"

"I don't know what she wants anymore," Anna sighs. "Nothing in that book relates to my present situation, as far as I can tell."

That gives Kristoff pause, a thought striking him. It comes out of nowhere and without relevance to his current thought process, but the need to speak it is too overwhelming to question. So he says, "Maybe she didn't send it to you to emphasize your situation, but to bring attention to hers."

Anna goes rigid. "Where does that theory come from?" she asks, voice stiff.

Kristoff frowns, wondering the same thing himself. "I don't know," he admits. "It just . . . came to me."

The redhead trips over herself in her effort to stand, her alcohol hazed eyes locking with his with shocking clarity as she grips his shoulders in a white knuckle grip. "Did you get any other stray thoughts?" she probes, demands. The blond shakes his head, wanting to shrink away from the intensity in Anna's gaze.

"Damn it!" Anna curses, pushing him away. She sucks her lower lip between her teeth, gnawing on it. "What does she mean?" the redhead wonders aloud. "What element of the book is she referring to?"

* * *

_Book 45: In Egypt We Roam – Part two of three_

_Placed between installations twenty-one and twenty-two of The Nomad of Mesopotamia_

_Page 168_

_Anna wipes the sweat from her brow, eyes squinted against the midday sun. Her eyes slide to her companion, standing comfortably outside Anna's little patch of shade. Not a hint of discomfort from the heat mar the woman's features, no bead of sweat. If it were anyone else Anna may have been surprised, but Elsa has always been an exception to the rules._

_For a long while the pair remain in companionable silence, Anna's mind drawing a blank when faced with the person that's been nothing but a guiding hand to her thoughts for the past century or two. Or was it three? Four? She stopped keeping track of time once she witnessed her kingdom besieged and flattened into in ruins._

" _You don't have to keep doing this," Elsa says, startling Anna. The redhead side-glances the magic user, turning the blond's words over in her mind._

_Anna's tempted to agree, but changing humanity stopped being her sole focus a long time ago, ever since she realized that Elsa sees her as Earth's last chance at redemption. Anna fears what would happen if she gives up, and Elsa realises how useless humanity is._

" _I don't have to, no," Anna agrees, looking out to the blinding dessert with squinted eyes. She doesn't elaborate, doesn't add unnecessary details. She's always been this way as far as she can remember, and since_ The Empress's Fallen Kingdom _only covers her life starting from when she met Elsa, Anna can't speak for how she was as a child._

_Elsa hums, but doesn't say anything else._

" _You haven't told me what you are yet," Anna says, taking a water skin out of her pack. She twitches a depreciative smile. "Or maybe you have, and I've forgotten. That happens a lot."_

_Elsa's eyes soften. "Our only encounters before this are covered in The Empresses's Fallen Kingdom parts one and two, and I didn't tell you my species during either meeting."_

_Anna's face smoothes at the knowledge. "So will you tell me now?" she asks._

" _Someday soon," Elsa concedes, a soft smile flittering over her features._

_Anna snorts, hiding her grin behind the spout of her water skin. "Your version of soon, or mine?"_

" _Yours," the blond breathes, sending Anna a look a look she can't decipher. "Always yours."_

Elsa blinks dirt out of her eyes and squints against the smoke, clogging the air even with her face practically buried in the blood-soaked clay of the champion home world. She should be thankful she's alive at all but the heaviness in her skull, the matted blood in her hair and her wavering magic leave little room for gratefulness.

A hand wraps around the guardian's braid and yanks. With a cry, Elsa pushes to her knees, where the insistent hand stops pulling, even if it doesn't go away.

"Which planet is your charge?" the champion rumbles, his voice rough from the toils of battle.

Elsa grits her teeth, considering denying any planetary responsibilities, but thinking better of it. She put Earth under an atmospheric lockdown specific to her genetic code—as is standard in times of war—and if she were to die, Earth would be inaccessible until the end of time. And while that would be for the best as far as Earth is concerned, Elsa can't do that in good conscious while Anna still resides there. How confused the woman must be with Elsa's complete lack of contact.

"Does it matter?" Elsa evades, desperately collecting magic within herself.

In a way, it doesn't matter. If Earth mattered—ha—Elsa would have been forced to remain within her planet barrier until the hostilities ended so she couldn't be killed. No one wants a planet going dark just because the wrong guardian died during a siege.

"Yes," the champion says, his tone lacking the malice she's come to expect from dealing with humanity.

Champions are the other superpower of the universe, usually taking on the militia responsibilities while the guardians take on the diplomatic ones. Elsa—and all the former guardians of Earth—are some of the only exceptions to this status quo, which is lucky for her home world. When the champions initially struck, the brutality of the former and current guardians of 'hopeless planets' bought her home the time needed for a counterstrike.

A war cry cuts through the air, and a sickening crack sounds from behind Elsa. The hand in her hair slackens and falls away. Turning around and squinting through the smoke clinging to the air, the guardian tries to see her rescuer. A hand appears in front of her, startling her with its proximity.

"Are you alright?" the man asks, and Elsa smiles, recognizing his voice.

"Yes," the blond says, taking her fellow guardian's hand and pulling to her feet. "Thank you, Hans."

The redheaded man cracks a smile, a broken element to his eyes. "Anything for a fellow sufferer."

Hans was the guardian of Earth before Elsa, the one who made humanity slaves and stopped considering their evolution altogether. 'What evolution? They're no better than speaking monkeys,' he would always say. Elsa can hardly blame him – if it weren't for Anna, she would have taken the same path.

As one can imagine, Hans doesn't approve of Anna. In his words, Anna is a guardian-created antichrist whose only purpose in life is to expand humanity's existence by opening her legs for the planet guardian. Elsa didn't dignify him with a response.

"What's the status?" Elsa asks poking the gash running from under her hairline to her left eyebrow. If she didn't have magic to heal away the immediate severity when she was initially injured, she would have bleed out in under a minute.

Hans works his jaw, anxiety showing in the set of his shoulders, the stiffening of his hands. "The Weasel wants to weaponize humanity because they're brutal and malleable. He's looking for Earth's current guardian to force them to rid the planet lock." He looks Elsa dead in the eye. "You're in danger."

Elsa's heart stutters in her chest, fear clawing at her ribs. "What would the council have me do?" she asks, her voice more strangled than she'd like. "I've been using my magic faster than it can replenish, and what little I do have I've been using to heal my injures."

"You're not the only one with that problem," Hans says, his eyes hardening. "But you need to get inside your planet lock and stay there. Humanity is a plague that should never have their violent potential actualized and set upon the universe. With champion tampering and support, they'd be unstoppable."

Elsa nods. She can't disagree with that.

"Okay," the blond agrees, holding her hands in front of her chest. "Can you cover me while I bypass my bio-lock?"

Hans grins. "Have I ever let you down before?" he jibs.

"No," Elsa smiles, "you haven't." He let down the guardian values with his violence, but he has never once let her down personally.

Hans' eyes widen, his pupils shrinking in fear. "Elsa!" he cries, lunging forward. "Watch out!"

* * *

_Book 779: Of the Modern Era – Part two of -?-_

_Page 2103_

_Anna bolts up in her bed, breath ragged and covered in sweat. She glances at her hand, and the slick substance that covers it._

" _Fuck," Anna whispers, wiping off her hand on her sheets and pinching the bridge of her nose with the other. She had that dream again, the perverted one featuring Earth's elusive guardian. How many centuries has it been since they started? Too many for Anna to recall._

_Getting out of bed, the redhead pads to the kitchen of her temporary, rundown apartment. When she passes the living room she pauses and glances out the window, watching the smoke bellowing from a nearby factory. There's another war on the horizon, she can smell it. It's all she's been smelling this past century, but this one feels . . . different. Big enough for her to sense it decades in advance._

" _I need to get the hell out of Germany," she mutters, walking to her refrigerator, the only piece of high tech to be found in her shitty living quarters. She hopes her next apartment has that cool new pipe system that delivers water by just turning a tap. It's been around for a notable while, but the dumps she's been staying in haven't upgraded their irrigation methods, and probably won't for another ten years._

_Opening the fridge, Anna's hand freezes in its reach for the milk, her hand hovering over a folded piece of paper. The redhead frowns, glancing towards the front door. She locked it, didn't she?_

_Shrugging, Anna grabs the note and sets it on the counter, searching her drawers for a match and a candle. She lights the wick and walks back to the piece of paper, staring at it for a moment before opening it. As she reads, her breath hitches in her throat._

_It reads, '_ I'll remind you as many times as your memory requires – they're called mental connections, not dreams, and they're as real as the letter in your hands. _'_

_Anna blinks as the note dissolves into thin air. A slow smile spreads over her lips and she turns her head to the ceiling. "Can you send me a condensed version of this?" She grins. "You can put the explanations in there too, if you think I'll need a break from the smut."_

Kristoff covers his grin with a coffee cup. Anna glares at him from behind her sunglasses, nursing a nasty hangover from her lonely night in. She would have tried her hand at sleeping it off had Kristoff not dragged her ass off the couch this morning and shoved her, fully clothed, into the shower.

"Why do you insist on keeping the curtains open?" the former dictator murmurs, rubbing her forehead.

"Because you need the vitamin D?" Kristoff jests, his grin widening.

Anna grumbles, poking at the eggs on her plate. Her stomach rolls at the smell and she sneers, pushing it towards Kristoff. "Here," she says, "have mine, too. Food and I aren't on the best of terms at the moment."

Kristoff snorts, his throat fluttering with restrained humour. He glances to the empty bottles of bourbon and scotch still poking out from between the cushions of the couch. "I'm not surprised," he says, taking a sip of his drink. In reality he's surprised she's as lucid as she is. From what he could tell the human immortal had drunk herself unconscious, mixing every type of hard liquor available.

The redhead glowers, opening her mouth to retort—

 _Bang_.

Anna whips around, hangover forgotten as adrenaline courses through her system, taking stock of the scene. Her living room coffee table lay in splinters, and on top of it—

The redhead's heart stutters to a stop, her eyes wide and her heart and mind battling what to address first.

That Elsa is in her living room?

Or that Elsa's beaten and covered in blood?

A shout from the open portal has the guardian flipping onto her back, raising her hand to block the oncoming energy spear as the welder squeezes through the gateway before it closes. Only Elsa's barrier shatters, and the golden spear lodges itself into the guardian's chest. The blond gasps, struggling meekly and spitting out blood.

Anna can't speak, can't move; can't comprehend what's happening in front of her.

The oriental dissipates her weapon. "This gives me no pleasure, guardian," she says, her voice smooth and lacking the vital elements that should be present during a murder.

"Yet still you'll pay," Elsa croaks, her voice hoarse. She twitches a sympathetic smile. "I'm afraid you made a mistake in your actions, champion." She waves a weak, trembling hand at her surroundings. "You followed a planet guardian inside their planet lock and, while I pains me to say . . . welcome to Earth."

The woman's eyes widen and she whips around, searching for the portal that's no longer present. "No," she gasps, turning back to Elsa in horror, as pale as death.

"What is your name, champion?" Elsa wheezes, a minute amount of blood spraying from her mouth.

"Mulan," the champion says, striding forward and falling to her knees by Elsa's side. "And you are _not_ getting off this easy." Mulan's hands flare with magic, seeping it into the guardian's chest. "I am not getting stuck on this planet for all eternity, do you understand me?" Mulan asks, her eyebrows furrowing together.

"Y-you, might not have a choice," Elsa sputters, hacking up yet another pool of blood. She feebly spits it out of her mouth without turning her head, and she winces as she feels the thick fluid trail down both her cheeks, soak into her hair. "All our magic has been pulled tight by the war," she continues, the light in her eyes fading. "I d-doubt you have the power to reverse a wound of this magnitude. All I ask is that you seek out the human Anna Landalis; please tell her what happened, and that I'm sorry."

That snaps Anna from her stupor, and she scrambles to the guardian's side, taking her hand. "I'm right here," she says, choked with emotion. She rips off her stupid sunglasses, berating herself for even concerning with hangovers at a time like this.

Elsa smiles, a bare twitch of the lips. "Hey," she breathes, "I'm sorry I disappeared."

Anna barks a broken laugh. "I think you had good reason," she says, gesturing to the blond's wounds.

Elsa's eyes soften, but the attention in them has dulled to a heartbreaking point. "No reason is good enough for abandoning you," the guardian whispers, her chest quivering in a weak cough. Her eyelids flutter, struggling to stay open. "Please remember that I love you, okay?"

The redhead's heart lodges in her throat, her human memory jogging with painful clarity. How could she have forgotten this? Or had she suppressed it when the weight of Elsa's absence became too much to bear?

"I will," Anna promises, swallowing thickly. "But, I mean, you'll be there every day to remind me, right?" The guardian twitches a apologetic smile, her eyelids falling closed. "Elsa?" Anna asks, fear clawing at her bones. "Elsa!" she repeats, shaking the blond's shoulder. Tears roll down her cheeks, a numbness consuming her limbs.

"No you don't," Mulan grits, droplets of sweat pooling on her forehead, glinting from the glow of her magic. "You will live, guardian, if it's the last thing I do." But Anna can see the strain in the woman's body, and realizes that she—what did Elsa call her, a champion?—may very well overexert herself into an early grave.

With a shaky breath Anna puts two fingers to Elsa's neck, feeling for a pulse. Her stomach twists at the slow, erratic throbbing of the guardian's two hearts.

The intense urge to pray overcomes the former dictator, but to whom would she direct her prayers? Elsa _is_ the all powerful God, no matter what name the different religions have given her. How could Anna's words be heeded if who they're directed to is bleeding out on her living room carpet?

Anna sobs, hanging her head. The thought of loosing Elsa is too painful to bear.

As time drags on, Anna keeps her fingers on Elsa's neck, feeling for any change that could signify an improvement . . . or a turn for the worst.

Kristoff stares on, mouth agape, the shock paralyzing his limbs refusing to let up. His mind stutters over itself, trying to grasp the significance of the scene in front of him. But something tells the man that he never will.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hans not being a complete shit in my stories for once? Whaaat?
> 
> Also, I might have had another fifteen pages planned for this but I scraped it in favour of, you know, not writing it. (Lack of time struck me down)
> 
> To **Texan Red Rose** : I was going to make a joke about automotive dealers and gas mileage, but . . .
> 
> Happy New Year, everyone!


	11. Queen Elsa and Assassin Anna (Mild NSFW)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally a backup piece for the Elsanna Secret Santa.
> 
> Added tags: NSFW, Blood and Violence.

Anna traces her fingertips along the carvings in her forearm casing, hiding a wrist activated retractable blade. Her face is obscured by an oversized assassin's cowl, attached to her heavy assassin robes, inlaid with armour.

"Well?" a tight voice says. "Speak."

Anna glances up, her eyes grazing the queen's gentle features, pulled taut from stress. The redhead flicks her gaze around the throne room, noting the rigid postures of the guards, how their fingers grip the hilts of their weapons in white knuckle grips.

"I have no intention of harming you," Anna murmurs, her soft tone slicing through the pregnant silence. Elsa's eyes flash, ice crackling around her fingers before she can stay her anger.

"You have undertaken over _seven attempts_ on my life," the Queen grits, "and you have the gull to stand in front of me and deny all responsibility?"

Anna raises an eyebrow, even though it can't be seen under the shadow of her hood. The guards had tried to make her remove it upon 'capturing' her. They failed. "With all due respect, your majesty," the assassin says, trying not to let the extent of her exasperation show, "if I wanted to kill you, you'd already be dead." The guards straighten, their grips on their weapons so tight it looks painful. Anna ignores them, sending Elsa a mirthless smile. "I'm good at what I do, your majesty. If the actual terms of my contract were to kill you, I'd be three kingdoms over before anyone would think to wake you from your evening nap."

The redhead watches as Elsa's nails dig into the throne's arms, a mild fascination overcoming the assassin at how easy the queen loses her composure. It's unbecoming.

Anna glances at the man standing at the base of the raised dais—Hans, was it? She never cared to remember—grinding his teeth to stubs. He hired her to scare the queen into his arms, making him the dashing noble prince of her dreams. Anna did her job, even allowing herself to be apprehended to put the whole scandal at rest. The assassin puts little faith in the man to hold up his end of the bargain to replace her with a scapegoat, but that's fine. She doesn't make a habit of putting the continuation of her existence in the hands of another, anyway.

"Who contracted you?" Elsa asks through clenched teeth. Anna shrugs. Ice sprouts from the floor, shooting towards the assassin. The redhead hums, raising her chin so that the tip of the spear grazes the skin of her neck.

"Contracts are a private affair," Anna says, taking a step around the queen's not-so-subtle threat, running a finger along the chilly side. "But I assure you I like them not," Anna continues, "and with my capture my end of the deal has been tied into a neat little bow." The redhead pauses, watching Hans' furious trembling from the corner of her eye. She cracks an empty smile. "While I won't make a point of working with that particular contractor again, I won't breech my oath of confidentiality. Many of my customers do not hold that kind of honour and most certainly don't deserve mine, but I have a reputation to uphold.

"Unless, of course," Anna taps her fingers against the ice beside her, considering. She grins, coiling her lips like wisps of smoke. "Yes, I like this idea." She turns to the queen, flaring her cloak for dramatic effect, revealing a good number of the assorted weapons hidden on her person. "My contract is over and you are no longer in danger from me," the assassin reiterates, "but with a rebuttal contract from you, I can gut the bastard responsible for your last few months of misfortune." Anna holds out her hand in offering. "All you have to do is agree to pay the sum, and shake my hand in promise that you'll keep your word, because I'll most certainly keep mine."

"You lying, traitorous bitch!" Hans howls, ripping his sword from the scabbard. "You've been trying to kill my love for a full season and a half, I will _not_ have you fill her head with your false promises!"

Anna wiggles her fingers at Elsa, paying the raging man no mind. "Just take my hand and your fears of future assassins will be nothing but a bad memory," she says, smirking at how Hans' hackles rise.

Elsa eyes the assassin's hand warily, with good reason. "How do I know you'll keep your end of the bargain?"

"How do I know you'll keep yours?" Anna rebuttals. "I don't get paid until I do my job."

The queen's eyes flash, her guard snapping back into place. "And how do I know you're telling the truth, that your hit against me is actually finished?"

Anna twitches the same, cold smile. "On my person I have two flintlocks, twenty throwing knives, a compression powered poison dart launcher and a wrist mounted crossbow for ranged attacks, any of which I could have used to murder you a hundred times over since I've entered this room." She raises her arm further, getting Elsa's attention back onto her hand. "I don't want you dead," Anna assures, "I want to rip out the throat of the slime who thought my purpose in life is theatrics."

Hans roars, charging her. Anna stays still, examining her effect on the queen. She gets her answer when ice blocks the furious prince and Elsa stands, holding out her hand. Hans stares in horror, trying to rush around the icy wall – only for it to expand to keep him at bay.

The assassin grins, walking towards the monarch and taking the taking the offered hand in a firm grip. "Ten thousand gold," Anna says, making Elsa's eyes widen. The redhead smirks. "That's my regular price, but I'm willing to offer a fifty percent discount for indulging me."

Duty, obligation and personal desire war upon the queen's features. Anna pulls the woman closer, placing her lips on the queen's ear. "Or, if I can finish this in the next five minutes, we can consider my contract with you as pro bono," the redhead breathes, her hot breath puffing down the monarch's neck.

"Elsa, no!" Hans cries, pounding his fist desperately against the ice barricading him. "Whatever she's saying, don't trust her! She's an _assassin_."

"An assassin with more honour than most nobles in your court," Anna airs, nudging her nose against the blond's jaw line. "I can make all of your fears disappear with a literal flick of the wrist. You can rule your kingdom in confidence. All you need to do is _agree to my terms_ ," she husks, resisting the urge to nip the skin under her teeth. The assassin doubts it's an action that'll help her case.

"Fine," Elsa grits, her tone notably more breathy than it was a minute before. "I promise upon the stated payments should you uphold your end of the bargain."

Anna groans, a shiver running down her spine. "Good," she rumbles, in a guttural tone that doesn't go unnoticed. Anna steps back and ducks under the spear of a royal guard. "Call off your pets, your majesty, and retract your ice." A ferial grin spreads over Anna's lips. "I have a pup to slaughter."

Seeing the assassin walking towards him, Hans cries out in horror and bolts for the door. Anna cackles, activating her wrist crossbow and loading it.

"Where are you going, pup?" Anna calls, firing. Hans screams, collapsing as the wood drives into the back of his knee. "It's not so fun being on the opposite side of a contract, is it?"

Ice blocks her path. Anna raises an eyebrow and turns to the throne, where Elsa stares at her in a mix of ire and horror.

"What are you doing?" the monarch howlers, her voice amplified by the structure of the room. Anna breaks into loud, careless laughter.

"You're paying me to kill the one who hired me to abuse you," Anna guffaws, "I'm merely holding up to my end of the deal." Anna's humour increases into obnoxious howls as Elsa ices her ankles and wrists together.

"I don't believe you," Elsa grinds, though the flicking of her gaze between her and the writhing man on the floor says she's not far off.

Anna relaxes into her imprisonments, allowing her laughter to die off. Doing otherwise wouldn't inspire confidence, which is what she needs from her captive audience.

"Who was always there to save you?" Anna asks, deciding it best to let the queen come to this conclusion herself. "Who always showed up at _just the right time_ at _exactly the right moment_ required to save you from my blade? Who's comforting, selfless arms always coaxed you in after you were left traumatized? Who did you loath with a passion a mere half a year ago, but you now bare a ring from?" She pauses, letting that sink in. When the horror seeps into Elsa's features, Anna continues with, "Your noble fiancé hired me so he could become a hero. Used me like I was no better than a court jester and played your emotions to back you, blindfolded, into a corner. He raped both our honour, and it's time he gets what's coming to him." She smiles. "Make your decision quickly, your majesty; three minutes have already passed."

"I don't care about the money!" Elsa snaps, storming towards the prince with the promise of hell in her eyes, the ice crackling at her fingertips. "How could you do that to me?" Elsa asks, her voice too soft. Hans's mouth flaps, useless. Something snaps in the queen's gaze. " _How could you have done this to me?_ " she screams, a storm engulfing the room.

Anna ducks her head against wind. "With all due respect," Anna says, raising her voice over the monarch's magic. "You promised his death to me."

The storm leaves as abruptly as it came, a thoughtful expression overcoming the blond's features. "I did, didn't I?" she murmurs, sending Anna an even look. "Do you mind taking requests?"

Anna raises an eyebrow and nods, intrigued.

Elsa smiles, but there's no mirth behind it. "Don't let me see it and make it hurt," she says, walking away. "Take as much time as you'd like. I'll pay you the five thousand."

Anna barks a laugh, shaking out her body as her restraints dissolve. "As you command, your majesty!" She turns to Hans, cracking her neck. "Are you ready to play, pup?" Hans whimpers in response.

How fitting.

* * *

"Four-thousand ninety-eight, four-thousand ninety-nine; five thousand." Elsa drops the last coin into the chest, smiling politely at the blood soaked assassin sitting on one of the ordinate chairs in front of her desk. The redhead hums, her hood for once pulled back to reveal her surprisingly soft, elegant features. The hardness of her eyes, however, ruins the innocence of her face.

Which is tragic, Elsa can't help but thinking, seeing as the woman can't be any older than herself.

"I propose a counteroffer," the assassin murmurs, side glancing Elsa in a way at spikes fear in her heart.

"I—" the blond clears the lump from her throat. "I thought assassin contracts are set in stone?"

Anna shrugs. "Mostly," she allows. "Once the terms are agreed upon they can't be changed unless both parties agree to the alternation, so if you refuse I'll take your gold and leave. You'll never have to worry about me again."

When no other information is forthcoming, Elsa closes her eyes and breathes, bracing herself. "What's your counteroffer?" she asks, all breath and no vocals. She knows her voice would crack, otherwise.

Then the assassin is _too close_ , pinning Elsa between herself and the desk. Elsa jolts, yelping in surprise. The redhead grins, but it's a far from reassuring sight.

"Submit control to me for a night," she proposes. "Let me bed you, and I won't take one piece of gold from you."

Elsa's eyes widen. "What? No!" she declares, the shock of the request returning her confidence. "I will not compromise my virtue for—"

The assassin nips at her nose, a predatory glint in her eyes. "You need this money for your kingdom. You've drained a significant amount of resources in boosting your defenses against me. _No one needs to know about this_." The redhead breathes in, taking in Elsa's perfume. An approving rumble slips past her lips, and she says, "I'll leave as silently as I came. Not a word will slip from my lips." She pauses. "But maybe you could arrange my clothes to be cleaned while we're otherwise occupied?" Elsa tries to slap the redhead, but the assassin catches her wrist with little effort. "I'll bathe myself prior, if that's what you're so uptight about."

"No, that's not what I'm 'uptight' about!" Elsa snaps, gritting her teeth. "You're proposing to _violate your Queen_."

Anna snorts, amused. "It's hardly a violation if you agree to it and, no offense, _you're_ not my queen." She pauses, a thoughtful look overcoming her. "I don't think I have a monarchy to pay herald to at all, actually. My village was too isolated for anyone to give a shit about." Anna twitches a bitter smile. "Or it was, at least, until it was raided and burnt to the ground. That day I decided that if my village was under any kingdom's jurisdiction, I owed them no loyalty."

Off Elsa's wary look, the assassin flashes a hollow smile and takes a step back. "I won't intimately mistreat anyone as I saw the raiders do that day, is the point to that story," Anna says, her gaze flicking to the chests of gold, the muscles in her jaw jumping. Elsa doesn't say anything.

Anna shrugs, taking the queen's silence as an answer. "Okay," the redhead says, recovering from her slip in composer, "I'll take your gold." She picks at the drying blood on her uniform. "But could you maybe get someone to wash my uniform before I leave?" she asks, barking an awkward laugh. "Considering what we just talked about I don't blame you if you disagree, but I'll knock half a thousand gold of my price if you do." She kicks the closest chest, not looking the queen in the eye. "I—" Anna clears her throat. "I really need it cleaned."

The thought of leaving herself vulnerable makes the redhead visibly twitchy, which gives Elsa a slight boost in confidence.

"How about leave all the gold for food and shelter in the castle for a couple nights under my personal protection?" Elsa asks, "Consider it a vacation."

Anna laughs, and for once it isn't _completely_ callous, even if it remains close. "No thanks," she declines, almost humble. "I need to keep the rest of the money as leverage just in case you want me to bend you over a table and leave you a shivering, sopping mess. I don't very well have that chance at that without holding your money hostage." So much for humble.

Elsa's head snaps back, nostrils flaring. "I am a _queen_ whether you heed to one or not," the blond barks, "and you will _hold your tongue_ unless you wish to see it chopped off."

Anna flashes her a raunchy grin. "That'd be exceptionally hard to do while it's buried inside of you, don't you think?"

Elsa grits her teeth and points to the door. "Grab your gold and go."

The assassin's smile freezes on her face, weighing her options in her mind. She clears her throat, cutting through the awkward air. "About my clothes—"

"Clean them in a ditch," the queen growls, unable to stop the scowl that mars her features.

Anna twitches a withdrawn smile. "Uh, yeah," she murmurs, "that . . . that doesn't work, very well." At Elsa's raised eyebrow, the assassin winces. "I've tried."

From calm to insane to flirty to demure. Elsa can't keep up with this girl's mood swings.

 _Then again_ , the queen thinks, _with her history, I'm not surprised by her mental instability_.

Justifying the behaviour doesn't mean Elsa wants the woman residing within the castle, however.

The assassin ducks her head, scratching off the flaking blood on her sleeve. "A thousand gold?" Anna asks, wincing when the queen glowers at her. "Please don't kick me out," the assassin pleads, meekly, "if only to not see me again in the future. Do you honestly think I'll get out of Arendelle without getting arrested? A shady figure like me, covered in dried blood, carting around chests of gold?"

More mood swings. More irrefutable logic.

Elsa pinches the bridge of her nose. Despite how she wishes it isn't true, the last thing Elsa wants is for Anna to cause a scene and get dragged back before her.

"A thousand gold, and you're out of here by sunrise," Elsa says. "Whether your clothes are dry or not."

Anna winces, but doesn't try her hand at a counteroffer. "Okay," she agrees, "is there a room I can wait in, in the meantime?"

* * *

Elsa isn't quite sure how to handle this development.

Anna, clad in nothing but an untied robe, stands in the doorway to Elsa's bedroom, chest heaving. The assassin's eyes flick around the room with a critical gaze but, when she realises nothing is wrong, her face flushes and she kicks the remains of the doorjamb into the hallway.

"Heeey," the redhead says, rubbing the back of her neck. "I was just making sure you were alright. Loud noises and . . . me, don't, uh, usually equal normal circumstances."

And the queen tries to pay attention, really, she does, but her eyes are drawn to Anna's toned torso, her breasts.

Without Elsa registering it, Anna shuts the—now broken—door and approaches the queen, stopping a step away.

"You're allowed to touch, if that's what you want," Anna whispers, a soft enough husk in her voice for Elsa to notice but not enough to put her on the defensive. The bad thing is that Elsa _does_ want to touch, but she doesn't trust Anna in so many ways, and that's enough to steel the monarch's resolve.

"No," Elsa says, shaking her head. "You should probably—"

"It's okay," Anna breathes, bringing the blond's hands to cup her breasts. "I promise to be a docile little pup, if you just want to feel." She nudges the monarch onto the bed and straddles her lap. "I bet you're curious, and I'm nothing if not benevolent when it comes to uncommitted exploration."

The queen stares in open amazement as she tests the weight of redhead's breasts in her hands, runs her fingertips over the assassin's hardened abs. Elsa's brain flat lines on logical thought, her throat choking up at the same speed as the fire coiling in her gut.

Anna, true to her word, watches on in silence, only reacting by the unconscious twitching of her muscles and her soft, sharp intakes breath. All minor things that Elsa doubts she would have noticed in any other circumstance, but are now things that speak louder than words.

Elsa runs her hands down Anna's sides and grasps her hips in a bruising hold, but the assassin doesn't flinch. After a moment, the redhead twitches a smile and, for once, a portion of it reaches her eyes in a manner that _doesn't_ make Elsa want to run for the hills.

"Like what you see?" Anna asks, her voice low and smooth. It's not a comforting sound, per se, but only because the redhead has dropped all pretense from her tone. Perhaps that reassures Elsa, if only a little, because the queen asks;

"I can touch you as I please, correct?"

Anna nods, amusement sparking in her eyes, alongside something else Elsa can't quite identify.

"Can I . . . can I kiss you?"

Anna leans down and captures Elsa's lips in a short, searing kiss in lieu of an answer. When the redhead pulls back she twitches a small smirk, her eyes lighting in hunger and . . . is that affection?

"Kiss me wherever you please, your majesty," Anna husks, running her fingers through Elsa's hair and tugging before draping her arms over the queen's shoulders. "The question," the assassin continues, "is if I can do the same."

Initially Elsa had said no, but she didn't keep saying 'no' as the night went on. Anna probably knew that would happen, which was why she was so complacent in the first place.

When Elsa wakes the next morning, she finds Anna gone and the full chests of gold remaining in her office.

 _An assassin of honour indeed_ , Elsa can't help but think, even if the pang of loss in her chest tells her that this isn't the outcome she desired.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Complete' doesn't mean 'complete' with me, it seems. Fair warning to everyone.


End file.
